Just Thought You'd Like to Know
by elise50
Summary: AU from start of season 6.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is an old one (that I've got one more chapter of), so I just decided to bring it here. The story was based on _Brown Sugar _a movie starring Taye Diggs and was originally intended it to be two parts, but now it's on to being six chapters. I do hope it's enjoyable for those who haven't already read it.

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><p>Bright lights, festive decorations, and easy laughter filled the cabin, setting a strange uneasiness in the pit of Callie's stomach. Never had it crossed her mind that this crowd would function as well as it did now, especially after all the misery they'd gone through in the past months, both individually and together. Finding the winter holiday cheer was almost intolerable and smiling faces still felt like an unspeakable betrayal. But as her eyes swept over the room, she realized what was happening. It was the continuance of life, the one wish George O'Malley would have verbalized for them had he been physically able to.<p>

As expected the months following his funeral brought changes in everyone's lives. In the wake of George's death, Meredith and Derek finally made that last push, stepping over the threshold and making what they had legally binding; Cristina and Owen found solace in each other, fighting through his episodes and her coming fears, Alex and Izzie held onto life together, planning an astounding future filled with birthdays, anniversaries, and over the top Thanksgiving dinners; and even Mark and Lexie stumbled through the tragedy, though not as gracefully as others. He fought tooth and nail for their reconciliation while she resisted, until she finally surrendered to his cajoling and moved into his home.

But not everyone's turns were as joyful, Miranda went head on through divorce, almost losing her son in the process; the combination of his worry for the hospital and the sudden loss and sickness of two surrogate children caused a lapse in Chief Webber's health, forcing him to surrender his coveted hospital position for the time being; and for Callie the same story replayed itself. She was never completely able to leave everything that'd happened behind her, even with the help of her girlfriend's comforting arms. Their relationship was strong on the surface, but floundering at the seams and then one day, it was over, gone on small disputes that started on Callie's insecurities and ended with the resurgence of Arizona's reservations. Then, three months later as the unspoken rule called for, the cheerful Peds Attending left Seattle Grace without so much as a good bye.

"Stop thinking."

Mark's hoarse demand pulled Callie from her thoughts, dragging her back into the Denver cabin with the rest of the selected guests.

"I wasn't thinking," she shot back, slumping against the table behind them.

"Bullshit." He retorted, mimicking her actions and dropping himself beside her, offering one of the two beers he held. "I brought everyone here to relax and have fun."

"I'm sure there was some ulterior motive to your generosity," Callie snorted, taking a sip from the bottle he'd handed her.

"You're not wrong," he grinned back, taking a swig of his own beverage as she cocked an interested brow. He chuckled when she deftly crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him expectantly. Without word, Mark grasped her arm and dragged her through the kitchen entrance. "I wanted to bring you along when I picked it out," he started, putting his drink on the counter before rummaging through his pocket. "But I couldn't hold out anymore."

"Pick wh-" Callie stopped mid question and took a hard swallow, clearing any remnants of alcohol from her mouth as her eyes rested on Mark's hand, holding up a small diamond ring. "Is that a…I mean is-"

"That's the response I hope to get from her too," he laughed, dropping his chin to admire the engagement ring he'd chosen. Sleek and simple, much like the woman it was for.

"Aren't you still mulling over your whole break up, semi-break up, whatever thing?"

Mark snapped the box shut, setting it comfortably in his front pocket. "Yeah," he paused running fingers through his gray locks, "but everybody has their problems. I'm not letting this one get away Torres."

There was an unexplainable seriousness and gleeful manner that dripped over him, one that wouldn't wash over her. Sharp pangs slipped through her stomach with little difficulty as she watched him smile; she pinned it on jealousy, wanting someone for herself, wanting her own strain of happiness.

"That's good." She spoke quietly, wiping nonexistent flecks of dirt from his chest. She felt an obligation to show some semblance of support. She owed him that much, he had been her pillar through every tough turn in the past few years, her shoulder to cry on whether or not she gave explanation.

"Good." He grinned reaching around Callie to grab his beer, chugging the drink quickly in an obvious attempt to build up nerve. "I better get out there," he breathed happily, dumping his empty bottle in the trash before turning back and lifting Callie's chin with his thumb. His eyes bore into hers, revealing every bit of concern he held for her. "No more thinking."

Only after her signature eye roll and reluctant nod, did he release his hold. He looked back over his shoulder, gently patting his pocket as she pushed him toward the doorway.

Minutes later, shocked gasps and happy squeals shot through the room.

And those sharp pangs unexpectedly found their way to her heart.

* * *

><p>"What about this one?" Mark held up a pair of overly elaborate champagne glasses with gold trimming and large round bases. Callie furrowed her brows and shook her head in negation. "These?" He held up the next pair which presented the same image except with a flute silhouette. Callie again shook her head in response and Mark sighed. "How can picking champagne glasses be this hard?"<p>

"I have a better question. Why am I here picking them out with you instead of Grey?"

Callie grumbled, looking at the delicately decorated tea sets over Mark's shoulder.

"She wanted me to pick them." He responded turning beside her, facing the small trinkets she'd set her sights on.

"Which still doesn't explain why I'm here," Callie retorted with an eye roll, running a finger along one of the painted tea pots in front of her.

"I needed to bring someone with good taste," he mumbled back.

"Shepherd has better taste and more experience when it comes to this stuff," she snorted quietly.

"Two men shopping for champagne glasses, two grown men shopping for champagne glasses…" He glanced over at her, checking if what he was getting at registered. "Together. Two grown men shopp-"

"I get it," she interrupted raising a hand to stop him, "I'm here to preserve your manhood." She watched as he raised another glass, plastered with more frills than any of the others they'd previously seen. "Or what's left of it."

"Not funny," Mark glared, placing the cup back in its spot. She smirked up at him, suddenly breaking into a fit of snickers.

"When's the big day?"

Both Mark and Callie coughed relieving themselves of the final flits of laughter before swirling around. Before them stood a cheerful saleswoman grinning with her arms folded politely behind her back.

"Huh?"

"The wedding, when is your wedding?" She smiled again, "it might help to narrow down your choices."

"Oh," Callie's mouth opened in realization, then dropped into a small smirk. "No, we're not…we're just friends."

"I'm so sorry," she giggled, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink, fully displaying her embarrassment, "it's just that you two looked so comfortable and happy and so in lo-"

"No," Callie chortled, cutting the woman off before she could finish her observation, "we're just close."

"My apologies," the woman offered, swiftly backing into her place behind the counter.

Callie continued laughing, shoving strands of black hair behind her ear, as she rounded corner. They resumed searching the store in silence, a tiny bit of tension floating between them.

"No," Mark finally spoke, his voice mimicking hers, "we're just close."

"What?" Callie shot back, annoyed with his mocking tone.

"You didn't have to say it like that."

"Like what?" Her brows knitted.

"Like someone thinking we're engaged is the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard. What about these?" He asked, holding up two more glasses, purposely shifting back conversation back to their primary reason for being in the store.

"Yeah," she nodded, rolling her eyes at his selection and explanation for offense.

"Hungry?"

Aware that he was ready to let whatever fight building drop, Callie raised a firm brow and crossed her arms.

"You're buying."

* * *

><p>"I thought the alcohol would be worth it, but I'm not sure I can take much more of this." Cristina groused, sidling alongside Callie, watching as Lexie was restlessly coddled by her sister and a few other family members. "Bridal showers are torture."<p>

"Yours wasn't bad."

"That's because there was four of us and enough booze to have you tolerating Blondie's presence."

"Mhmm," Callie chuckled lightly, her eyes still lingering over the set-up. Pink ribbons hanging graciously down the walls, over the door entrances, from the ceiling; giving the appearance of a nightmarishly decorated Valentine's Day middle school dance rather than the elegant party it was meant to be.

"So…Torres," Cristina started, hunching closer before tossing casually, "you can step in anytime."

"Okay," Callie inched into the conversation, unsure of its intent. "I didn't think the accurate recount of your bridal shower called for anything more than a nod."

"You know what I'm talking about," Cristina scoffed, downing a shot of tequila. Seconds later, she lithely snaked her arm behind her back, reaching for the commandeered bottle she'd been enjoying. "Sloan's song of choice isn't exactly common knowledge." She added, pouring another shot and grabbing one for her too sober companion. "You had all the right answers to that stupid 'do you know who you're marrying' game they played earlier. It's disgusting."

"We're friends," Callie offered simply, brushing off growing insinuations the young resident may have been conjuring.

"Meredith's my friend, doesn't mean I know or care about what they called her in high school," Cristina answered dryly, shoving the glass into Callie's chest, silently demanding she drop the liquid with her.

"You and Meredith aren't exactly poster children for normal friendships," Callie snorted then downed her shot, letting the drink burn through before it cursed its way into her body.

"So we're not normal," Cristina shrugged casually. "I bet fucking your friend a couple of hundred times isn't either." She smirked triumphantly, taking satisfaction in the vision of Callie squirming, eyes wide and darting aimlessly around the room. "Don't tell me you've never thought this whole wedding thing was a sham, that you've never found yourself wondering why he's taking the plunge with Three," she grinned, relaxing in her current position of power, "and not shacking up with you."

Callie noticeably sunk, feeling the weight of accusing eyes drawn at her. Cristina's brash curiosity only pinched the surface of her thoughts. More often than not Callie found herself wondering what the turn out might have been had she and Mark entered the kind of relationship that didn't involve third parties or needy sex.

"Oh, oh that's my cue," Cristina perked suddenly, looking off toward a tight smiled Meredith. "She pulled out the 'save me' face."

She fled quickly, leaving Callie without a chance for rebuttal and a surge of thoughts that'd be deemed inappropriate for the very close, very female friend of a soon to be married man.

* * *

><p>"I'm getting married."<p>

Callie watched as Mark paced in front of her, his hands traveling in erratic lines through his gray hair. He'd been in the same volatile state for a good ten minutes, not letting her get a word or movement in between his unremitting questions and impulsive flinches.

"What the fuck am I thinking? What the fuck was I thinking when I asked her?"

Her lips quirked at that one, she'd asked herself that a couple of times, justifying her interest with friendship concern.

"How am I going to do this? She hates the Yankees!" Mark declared, slightly disgusted at the revelation.

"I like the Mariners," Callie chuckled, rubbing a hand across one of her knees as she sat on the couch. She'd deposited herself there as soon as his tirade had begun, knowing from experience how long it could potentially last.

"That's only because you know nothing about baseball," he smirked at her momentarily before continuing his rant. "She snores like a fucking trucker."

Her mouth quivered while she desperately held her lips shut, keeping from laughing at his comparison.

"And she hates apples. Who hates apples?"

"Mark…" Callie sighed heavily, moving to stand directly in front of him, purposefully stopping his anxious strides.

"Do all men go through this?" He asked, looking straight at her, holding some strange hope that she'd have his answer.

"I have no idea. You know what might help? Asking a man," she responded, sharply adding an eye roll for emphasis. Guilt rose watching as it washed over him, slowly calming nerves.

"Marriage is huge," he spoke again, stepping closer and dropping his hands on her hips as he did so. "Do you think I'll be good at it?"

Callie hated self-doubting Mark. He showed up more often than he could control now. It was a rarity for the boastful plastic surgeon to allow anything to get the better of him and make him feel inferior. Drawing closer, she lifted her arms and rested them on his shoulders, tenderly cradling his head between her forearms. One hand pulled back, scratching at the slight stubble running along his cheek before kissing it lightly.

"I think so."

It hit instantly, there was no time wasted between her pulling away and him drawing her closer. It started in a hungry clawing fashion, the way it always had, where mouths did all the work and touching was left until needed. But it was his hands that did the bidding, as the intensity simmered, the intimacy grew and Mark's hands moved from her hips. One explored her body, sinking slowly over her hips, rising to graze the underside of her breast, dropping back to the starting curve of her ass, as the other pushed up and sunk into her dark waves, caressing her gently as his fingers ran through her silky mane. She followed the example, letting fingers glide along his chest, memories of how it felt against hers inking their way back into her mind, while the other hand tangled itself in his short locks.

Before long it was over. Callie pushed him away as his hands began skimming the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it inch by inch, forcing more skin under his palm. She wouldn't let him be that guy again; a minor lapse in judgment wasn't going to jeopardize what seemed to make him so happy.

"Aren't there naked women you should be ogling right now?" She asked, smirking as she stepped away from him, breaking the awkward silence that hovered in the air surrounding them.

"Yeah," he chuckled, scratching behind his ear, shooting his eyes at random spots of her apartment using any familiar object to yank his attention from his heavy breathing and pounding heart.

The silence swallowed them again, holding each in a quiet stupor.

"Shepherd's going to have your ass if you're not there."

"He wishes," Mark grinned, easily sliding back into the cocky persona he'd built over his lifetime. "Speak of the devil," he smiled wryly, dropping a hand in his pocket to stop the ringing phone. "I guess I better head out. You sure you don't want to tag along? I know you like your share of naked women."

"That I do," Callie snickered, "but I like my sleep too." Off in the distance, Callie's phone vibrated against the tile countertop in the kitchen and Mark groaned in annoyance. "Get out of here before Shepherd and his band of merry men ruin my night."

Mark laughed while she playfully shoved him through the door.

"Get some sleep," he yelled as she successfully ran him out into the walk way leading to her home.

Callie shut the door behind her, turning each lock carefully, securing her place, doing anything that would help avoid the bedroom. Because tonight, getting some sleep would be easier said than done.

* * *

><p>"Say something," Cristina leaned over Owen, whispering harshly at Callie. "This is the time where you step in Torres. This is your cheesy cliché moment. This is where you stand up, say you object and-"<p>

"Cristina shut up!" She snapped sharply, catching the unwanted attention of a few guests.

"Speak! I demand you speak up!"

"And say what?" Callie's arms became animated, drawing more onlookers.

"I don't know, how about, 'Hey McSteamy I'm in love with you'! That might turn some heads." Cristina draped with ease over her quietly grunting boyfriend to whisper into Callie's ear.

"Why do you care?" Callie charged in a hushed tone.

"I don't care!" She responded quickly, pulling on an indifferent mask to hide any concern she wielded for her former housemate and unlikely confidante. "I'm going to say something."

"No you're not!" Callie struggled, grabbing Cristina's hands and clasping them in hers before she could raise them.

"Yes. I. Am." Cristina fought against her, physically dragging her across the seat, surprising her with brute strength.

"No. You. Are. Not!"

"Ladies," Owen gulped, wedged between them, pointing to the quieted crowd interestedly watching their childish battle. Callie looked around the room nervously, then up to the Minister, who gazed down at her expectantly, to Lexie, who appeared a little more than miffed, and at Mark, whose confusion and curiosity merged into one baffled expression.

"May we continue? Or is there something you'd like to say?" The Minister spoke clearly, directing his question at her.

"No, I'm…we're very sorry. Please continue," she finished, ignoring Cristina's audible, 'I'm not' and sat back, trying to drown out the gossip brewing behind her.

Soon the ceremony was over and the crowd stood, cheering and smiling as the newlyweds stomped happily down the aisle. She clapped, gracing Mark with a tiny smile as he turned toward her, keeping his eyes locked to hers for as long as he could while people pushed him through the church doors.

And with that it was over. She mentally closed that chapter of her life, justified in knowing that it was unnecessary to dwell anything that remained unwritten.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ages on Grey's are not my forte, they seem to change or not make sense in canon so I made up my own (I think).

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><p>"Jesus!"<p>

Callie slammed the door to the on-call room; shutting her eyes while she took a deep breath. Running a hand through her hair, she stepped toward the nurse's station trying to wash her mind of the scene she'd walked in on.

Seconds later Lexie burst from the room, straightening herself as she darted down the hall. Grinning Mark walked out behind her. Fixing the lapels of his coat, he dropped beside Callie who stood staring intently at the front page of a day old newspaper.

"Don't be shy Torres," Mark snickered as he leaned closer, "people have gotten crazier shows. If I remember correctly, you and," he quieted before finishing his thought.

"Yeah," Callie laughed uneasily, raising her hand to stop anything else Mark might think if saying. "Just remind me never to use that on-call room again."

Sliding away from her, Mark settled against the front desk. Sending a quick side glance toward his best friend, he watched as she subtly shifted away from him, her eyes searching for anything that might help release her from their conversation.

Things between them had been slightly off, awkward even, since the night of his bachelor party. Tossing out a wistful smile, images of their unmentioned kiss ran through his head like some forbidden slide show. Sighing, his thumb hit the clean metal of his wedding band.

"I think I'm-" Callie started, breaking his focused inner monologue.

Loud beeping hit their ears before she could finish forming her getaway. Smiling, she looked down at her hip and grabbed the pager. Biting her lip, she glanced up and titled her head apologetically.

"I have to go."

Mark nodded and watched her turn away quickly. Shaking his head, he dropped his elbows against the counter top, standing there for only seconds before his own pager blared.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Andrews, I'm Dr. Torres and I'll be," Callie paused looking up from her chart to the patient waiting in the room. His face was tightened in an effort to take control of the pain inflicted by his injury, but that wasn't what caught her attention. The three piece pirate suit, complete with eye patch and shoulder bird was far more distracting.<p>

"I know," the man chuckled embarrassedly, staring across the way at Callie. "It was my nephew's birthday; he's a big Jack Sparrow fan."

Nodding, she expressed her understanding, knowing through experience how difficult it could be to satisfy children. Moving forward, she came around to the arm he was nursing.

"No need to explain, I've got two nieces and a nephew of my own."

"Ah," the man winced as she slowly touched the tender area, "you know what's it's like then."

"I do," Callie smiled and continued their chat, trying to keep him distracted while she finished the examination of his arm. "How did it happen?"

Chuckling, he squeezed the bottom of the seat with his uninjured arm before starting. "Do you want the real story or the less embarrassing fabricated one?"

"The real one." She smirked at him.

"I got a little carried away during a play sword fight with my niece." Callie quirked a brow and motioned for him to continue, "I climbed a tree in the yard, trying to get to higher ground and didn't make it all the way up. My foot slid when I was almost to the top and I fell on my arm after I finally hit the ground."

Glancing over at him sympathetically, she offered him a quick smile of comfort. Biting her lip, she leaned closer. "Well Mr. Andrews-"

"John, call me John."

"John," Callie continued, cheeks flushing a little as she began to notice his chiseled features and attractive smile. Mentally shaking her thoughts, she started again, "I'm sorry to say this, but you're going to need a cast for that arm."

"Well," John scanned the room and laughed as he met her eyes, "I'm kind of glad. I'm leaving this whole thing with a few battle scars and a cast."

Snickering at his assessment, Callie shook her head in amusement. "There is that plus."

"And meeting you. That's a plus too."

Eyes widening slightly, Callie gave him a side smirk as she pulled away.

"Too soon for the cheesy pick up line?" John quipped shyly.

"Maybe," she smiled slowly pulling a stand of hair behind her ear subconsciously flirting.

"Maybe," the word dragged slowly as he eyed her hopefully, "I could take you to dinner, as a thank you for fixing my arm."

"I don't think that-"

"You should get involved with me." He finished her sentence nodding. "I get it, doctor and a patient might kind of weird."

Biting her lip, Callie eyes furrowed apologetically. She knew her hesitation hadn't come from what he'd suggested, but she kept quiet, deciding to let the details remain unknown.

"Are you single?"

"Yes." Callie answered truthfully.

Squinting, he furrowed his brows in deep thought, then looked up at her again with a charming smile and a nervous chuckle. "There's really nothing I can do to change your mind?"

Callie grinned at him, shaking her head she turned to gather her tools. "Tell you what," she began, "you wear a pink cast for the next six weeks and I might consider meeting you for a cup of coffee."

Grunting, John smiled at her, "humiliation, the key to every woman's heart."

"Is that a no?"

"Oh no, I'm going to sport that baby proudly," his eyes crinkled handsomely when he spoke, "hell if it gets me a cup of coffee and conversation with someone as gorgeous as you, I might mount the thing on my wall."

* * *

><p>"Are those from your stalker?" Cristina asked as one of the front desk employees of the hospital presented her with a small bouquet of flowers that had arrived while she was in surgery.<p>

"His name is John and he is not a stalker." Callie retorted, sniffing the small bundle of lilies handed to her. Smiling, she thought of their sender, the handsome and surprisingly quirky column writer who'd donned a pirate costume to make the children in his family happy. He'd kept in contact after their initial meeting, occasionally calling on her to ask about his 'injury', leading to the exchange of numbers and more in depth conversations. She enjoyed their late night chats, his odd sense of humor made her laugh, something she felt incapable of only months before.

"Ugh now you're smiling, when is this guy's cast coming off so you can get laid?"

Turning sharply at Cristina, she rolled her eyes at the expectant glance. "I am not going to sleep with him Cristina. I'm not even sure I'm going out with him."

Scoffing, Cristina bit into the apple in her palm. "Like you could seriously keep your legs closed to Mr. Wonderful."

"Mr. Wonderful?" Callie chuckled, placing the flowers on the table.

"Somebody call for me?" Mark came up to the women, smirking at Cristina's mocking snort .

"Because when anyone uses the term 'wonderful' they must be referring to you," Cristina retorted, picking up her files from the desk. Smirking at the duo, she decided to stir the pot before walking away. "Anyway Torres, I say sex up pirate boy. He's earned it."

Enjoying the seriousness that bloomed over Mark's face, Cristina smiled uncharacteristically and danced down the hallway.

Glaring at the retreating form, Callie tucked her hands in her coat, waiting for Mark's inevitable opinion.

"You're not seriously going out with this guy are you?"

"I might," Callie eyed him with disdain as she answered his accusatory question.

"He's a creep Cal." Mark huffed, irritated with the fact that she was strongly considering dating the eye patch wearing nerd he'd seen her fixing up nearly a month ago.

"He is not creepy." She defended firmly, tightening her jaw.

"Callie, the guy sends flowers to your work."

"I know the weirdo," Callie responded with a flat tone.

"It's…" Mark paused, searching for the right words, but he floundered, "There are plenty of other people who'd be happy to go out with you. Like that nurse in surgery with us the other day. She was flirting, you two looked pretty good-"

"Mark shut up," Callie stopped his rambling with biting tone. "I like the flowers. And I like him."

'That's the problem,' Mark thought bitterly.

Over the past few weeks he'd noticed the change in her, she smiled more. The twinkle in her eyes, the one that had been missing for longer than it should have been, had slowly resurfaced. She was happy; and it had nothing to do with him.

Turning he pulled the Blackberry from his pocket; while completely rude, he didn't have it in him to listen. Nothing she said would convince him to give the guy a chance.

Grunting at the thought, Mark's fingers nimbly scrolled through his cell phone. Shoving the device into his pocket, he made a scene of shrugging the kinks from his shoulders.

"You're really going to ignore me?" Callie asked annoyed at his indifferent display.

"Are you done singing Captain Hook's praises because I really did come up to you for a reason Torres."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Callie looked up at the ceiling, biting her bottom lip in frustration. Taking it as cue, Mark continued.

"I was actually wondering if you might want to head out to Joe's with me tonight." His voice softened as he released a small chuckle. "To hang out, like we used to."

Guilt residing over her, Callie turned sympathetic eyes on Mark. Over the past few weeks she had been secretly dealing with the thoughts and images her mind had painted of her and her best friend, analyzing everything little detail, trying desperately to tie the whirlwind of emotions she felt to something logical. She had pushed the large gap between them; not with bad intentions, but their friendship had suffered.

Titling her head, her eyes scanned him slowly. While the pace of her heart still quickened and warmth flowed through her body, the feeling hadn't been as intense as before.

Her gazed dropped to the band on his finger, a symbol of his marriage, promised fidelity and love to another woman. The piece of jewelry didn't bother her anymore; out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faint purple of the lilies by her elbow.

She was finally moving past the unexpected kiss in her apartment; it didn't rush her mind with possibilities anymore, it was fading into a memory, an on the fly incident induced by fear.

Breaking into a smile, she met his stare and nodded. They could now repair any unease that still remained between them. Their friendship and the man in front of her, who'd worked so hard for his happiness, deserved at least that much.

"You're buying."

"Just like old times." Mark smirked, bumping his hip against hers.

She laughed and grabbed the bundle of flowers affectionately.

"Just like old times."

* * *

><p>Stepping out of the shower, Mark huffed at the clothes left in a trail through their bedroom. Irritated with the mess, he bent grabbing each article of clothing and tossed them into the laundry basket beside the bathroom door. Running a hand over his damp hair, he pulled open the top drawer of his dresser. With a less than enthusiastic grunt, he looked down over the rumpled and disorganized shirts. Tightening his jaw, he snatched a worn NYU shirt and slammed he drawer shut. Covering himself, he made his way to the kitchen.<p>

Pausing in the doorway, he watched as Lexie danced around the room, wearing one of his shirts, pulling milk from the fridge and a measuring cup from one of the cabinets.

He waited for the familiar clawing sensation in his chest, for the instantaneous smile, but neither came. Frowning, he realized the image no longer held the same effect as it once had.

Before he could dwell on what it meant, Lexie spotted and ushered him to the table. Seconds later, a bowl of macaroni and cheese was placed on front of him and Lexie plopped herself across the way. Sending her a fabricated smile, he lifted his fork and surveyed the meal.

Sighing, he let some of the meal droop back onto his plate before taking a bite.

He'd always had an idea of marriage, where him and his wife would be hopelessly in love, where they'd be able to sit around the table and talk about everything, where he'd smile willingly every time she entered a room.

Day after day he'd come to see how faraway from fantasy his reality had become.

The loud ringing of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. Smiling as he recognized the familiar jingle, he grabbed it and walked into the living area.

"Torres," he greeted her amusedly, grinning into the receiver despite her inability to see him.

"He cooks!"

"What are you talking about?" Mark questioned, dropping onto the couch. Chuckling he could imagine her pacing the floor of whatever room she was occupying. "And stop pacing."

"I'm not pacing." She answered quickly.

"I know you Torres, and don't glare into the phone."

"Shut up," She shot back agitatedly.

"Don't be mean Cal. What were you rambling about?"

"Mark he cooks," Callie whispered back harshly, "really, really well."

"I cook," Mark grumbled interrupting her, remembering exactly where she was at the moment. Earlier, he'd barged into her apartment with Rocky and The Godfather, ready to have a mini movie marathon with her before Lexie got back to the apartment. But she was gliding around the room, getting ready for her big date with the pink casted boy wonder he never stopped hearing about.

"Microwaving left over burritos from your favorite Mexican restaurant hardly counts as cooking Sloan."

"Were you hungry afterward?" He inquired and waited for one of her witty responses.

When none came, he smiled, "I rest my case."

"I think I'm going to break the rule." Callie finally spoke, sighing into his ear.

"No you're not." Mark spoke sharply, sending her his best authoritative tone.

"I think we're going to have sex tonight."

"No you're not," he repeated, moving from his relaxed posture and settling into a straight back no nonsense sitting position.

"Mark," she started, "he's doing everything right, he's been amazing and…he's got potential."

"You don't even know him Torres, he could be some psychotic serial killer."

"We've got potential," she spoke into the phone, though he was sure she was no longer speaking to him. Instead she was coming to a realization.

"Callie…" He started, attempting to foil her train of thought.

"Good night Mark and don't try to call me."

"Cal, you're not…" His words ended when the sound of the dial tone reached his ear.

Griping, he redialed her number, only to be greeted with her answering machine. Tossing his phone carelessly onto the couch, he rubbed his hair before getting up from his seat.

"What was that about?" Lexie asked, shoving a spoonful noodles in her mouth. Mark caught the slightly riled implication in her question and the fact that she hadn't needed to ask who was on the other line.

"Nothing important," he replied, taking his seat across from her, hoping that his words held a bit of truth. The date really wasn't all that important, Callie's adoration of the Seattle journalist would die down soon and things would shift back and become completely normal again.

* * *

><p>"Lexie we're going to be late!" Mark yelled from the kitchen counter, where he sat nibbling on a pair of Saltine crackers. Flipping his wrist, he checked his watch and began tapping his foot on the wooden floor.<p>

Mumbling, Lexie came through the hallway that led to their bedroom. Slipping on one shoe, she straightened her dress and glanced up at him.

"You look beautiful."

Skipping the awkward blush and stuttered 'thank you' he'd come to expect, Lexie sent a tight smile and strode past him to retrieve her coat. Sighing, Mark watched as she walked out the door. Grabbing his keys from their hook, he twirled them on his index finger and followed behind her.

Close to an hour after leaving their apartment, Mark sat staring across the table at his wife of a little over half a year.

Their date had been quiet and more uncomfortable than anything else he'd experienced. It was a far cry from the celebration most went through for their own anniversary dinner.

Flicking the tips of the fork on his left, Mark thought back over the past months. He and Lexie had drifted apart, each spending more time with friends and patients at the hospital than each other. When they were together, casual conversation was a struggle; neither opened up to the other as effortlessly as they did with friends and co-workers.

He looked down at the table grimly after watching the diamond of her ring flicker beautifully against the restaurant lighting.

The first few weeks of their marriage had been perfect. They basked in their newly wed glory, holding each moment together as a significant piece of their lives. He was happy, not completely content, but happy nonetheless.

However, after the initial fondness of living together began to wear off, their differences came bubbling to the surface and became clearer to anyone who took the time to observe them.

"This is a nice place." Lexie spoke pulling him from his musings.

"Yeah," he nodded, brushing his fingers anxiously against the table cloth. "We're lucky they kept our table 20 minutes after the reservation time."

"I got over excited. It's not everyday my husband actually wants to spend a night with me," she spoke in a defensive tone, grabbing her wine glass and whispering before taking a sip, "and not our neighbor."

Clenching his jaw, Mark bore his eyes into hers, "What exactly does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

Snickering, he shook his head at the turn of conversation. His relationship with Callie had been the center of most arguments they'd had in the last several weeks.

"Are you two sleeping together?"

Stunned at the bluntness of her question, Mark leaned back from the table. Sighing, he looked up at the ceiling, asking the higher power he'd never particularly believed in, to grant him patience. Sneering at her accusation, he returned his eyes to his fuming wife.

"She's dating someone Lexie and I'm married, to you," he paused and sniffed indignantly, "or have you forgotten that little fact."

Snorting, Lexie sat back in her chair, curling her upper lip scornfully. "Sometimes I wonder if you remember. And neither of you are strangers to having sex while with other people."

Knowing the situation she referred to, Mark ran the tip of his tongue over the top row of his teeth, gaining composure and staying as collected as he could. "You don't know what happened between any of us, you don't get to judge anyone. Especially her."

"Of course I don't. You still haven't answered my question." Lexie continued, fiercely tugging a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, glowering as she waited for a confession.

"No," he answered firmly, "we're not having sex, we're not sleeping together, we're not having an affair. We're friends, I thought you understood that."

"I'm your wife, not her."

Shutting his eyes tightly, he groaned in displeasure at her response. "Don't make this about her, she's not the problem."

"Then explain to me, what is the problem?" Lexie mumbled glancing around the room at the other customers in the restaurant.

"You're 25, I'm turning 40. At some point in the near future I want a family, you've got a set life plan that prevents you from even thinking about it for another 10 years. We can't hold a decent conversation, you flip flop constantly, sometimes I feel like I'm arguing with a child."

"What about you?" She rose instantly, raising her voice and drawing the attention of others. "You moped about me not moving in with you and now I play second fiddle to a woman you never intended to let go!" Calming she began to breathe loudly, lowering her voice she met his eyes with command and determination. "You have to choose."

Not waiting for his response, she grabbed her handbag from the table and stormed out the door.

Mark sat quietly, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying desperately to calm every nerve in his body. Waving a hand for the waiter, he laughed at the gossip and quick glances sent toward him. His idea of marriage couldn't have been any farther from reality.

* * *

><p>Pacing, Mark glanced down at his watch again.<p>

She'd be down in a few minutes.

Sliding a hand down his face, he looked around the busy hallways, watching people rushing past open doors and empty chairs.

He really hadn't known why'd he ended up in the middle of it all. He should have been home, trying to make amends or salvage what was left of his dangling thread marriage.

The elevator doors slid open loudly, capturing his attention instantly. She was the first person he spotted, peacefully searching through her phone, completely unaware of his presence.

"Hey."

Callie jumped back, startled by the unexpected call of her name. Pulling the strap of her purse back onto her shoulder, she stepped off the elevator and into the hospital lobby. Furrowing her brows, she clutched her chest and looked over at Mark.

"What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering Mark gave an indifferent shrug before he stared absentmindedly at the ground. His left hand began to clench, tightening so much that the force of his strength began pushing his wedding band off his finger. Moving quickly Callie grasped his hand with hers, clasping them gently, sending him comfort and stopping him from completing his mindless task.

Gazing down at their intertwined fingers, Mark glanced up and met Callie's concerned face. Squeezing her hand affectionately, he tugged her through the automatic doors of the hospital.

"I need a drink."

Watching her send a small wistful smile his way as she followed behind him, willingly offering her ear and shoulder, made his stomach flip with emotion.

Dropping Callie's hand, Mark stuffed his own into a coat pocket and let her walk ahead.

Looking up he saw her glance at him again, biting her bottom lip in worry and tilting her head in genuine sympathy. And as she turned to continue in the predetermined direction, a familiar clawing sensation joined the whirling emotions of his core.

Now her understood why he'd gone to her first.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm not going to be the first one to talk."

"One of you needs to be the adult," Callie spoke over her shoulder as she walked past Mark and into the small Italian restaurant they'd ordered their take-out from.

Following closely behind her, Mark thought about the past four weeks. His life had changed drastically; he and his estranged wife, despite working in the same building, hadn't spoken in nearly a month. She had moved back into her sister's attic a day after their anniversary dinner. The situation hurt him more than he was willing to admit. There were nights where he'd miss the warm body that used to lay beside him at night, where he'd miss knowing that he had someone to go home to at the end of the day.

But he was still coping surprisingly well.

Of course much of that had to do with the woman maneuvering her way through pulled out chairs and occupied restaurant tables. From the moment she stepped off the elevator that night, readily offering comfort and support, Callie rarely left his side. She kept him from spiraling back to the mess he'd been when they first met and never forced him to deal with his jumbled emotions alone. She had dedicated so much of her time to looking after him that he often wondered how she carried on with her own life.

Smirking, he stood back and watched as she sauntered to the counter, flashing her big smile at the college boy behind the register. Mark shook his head, snickering at the way the young host suddenly fumbled with receipts as she approached.

"Flirting won't get you a discount Torres," Mark chuckled into her ear while the boy walked back into the kitchen for their order.

"Shut up," she responded, turning her smile up at him.

The sight pushed something in Mark's gut, sending a familiar sensation through his body; shifting his gaze quickly, he stared down at his feet. The feeling had been growing more intense by the day; part of him embraced it and the other chose to shove it aside. While he could never deny the attraction, she was his best friend, he'd suppressed thoughts of anything further once he was married.

"He's coming," Mark stated promptly, refocusing attention to the boy holding their dinner.

Grabbing the wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a few folded bills. As he reached over to pay, a loud giggle from a booth around the corner of where they stood caught his ear. Dropping the money, he turned and stepped toward the laughter.

What he spotted froze him instantly.

"Mark what are you…" Callie quieted behind him as she looked over his shoulder and found Lexie smiling and laughing at something her assumed date was saying. Sighing, she shut her eyes for a few seconds, gaining composure before allowing herself to speak.

"Listen Mark, let's just go."

"You wanted me to be an adult."

"Mark…come on, we'll go home, eat, drown ourselves incredibly horrible cable TV and wait until tomorrow," Callie pleaded, tugging on his hand with her free one.

Mark knew it was more mature to walk away, save the confrontation for a more private venue, but something compelled him to move and before he knew it, he was grabbing Callie's hand and propelling them both toward the laughing pair.

"Lexie!" Mark bellowed with fake enthusiasm while he stopped at the table and looked down at its occupants.

"Mark…" On impulse, Lexie shifted away from her date and stared up at her husband.

Narrowing her eyes, she flipped a strand of her newly blonde hair, tucking it behind her ear. Gaining confidence, she moved to grab her wine glass, letting her eyes drift to Callie who was standing wearily behind Mark. Sipping slowly, Lexie decided to drive the discomfort and made a spectacle of her ringless finger. "Callie, I almost didn't see you there."

Callie nodded her greeting, smiling tightly at the younger woman.

"Are you guys on a dinner date?" Lexie asked boldly.

Laughing bitterly, Mark shook his head in slight disgust. Giving in to her goading, his gaze landed on the man next to her. "Mark Sloan," he gritted, raising his hand as politely as he could.

"Jackson Avery," the young man raised his own hand hesitantly, then brought it back after the tense handshake and leaned against the booth, drawing his gaze between their guests and his date. Quirking a brow he looked up at Mark, "how exactly do you know each other?"

"Oh she didn't tell you?" Mark asked, smugly folding his arms. "I'm Lexie's husband." Quickly satisfied with the look of surprise in the other man's face, he turned and smiled down at Callie before returning his glare to the sitting duo. Shutting out the disappointed sigh behind him, Mark refocused his attention.

"I didn't know she was still married," Jackson spoke easily, sending his date a questioning look. Lexie sneered, glancing accusingly in Callie's direction.

Shaking her head, Callie stared up at the ceiling; seconds later she snickered and turned away from the table, deciding to let their soap opera continue without her presence.

Feeling the empty space beside him, Mark turned and caught Callie's departure; watching it pulled a wave of regret from his body.

"Don't worry," he shook his head carelessly and turned toward the exit, "that'll change soon."

Without waiting for a response, Mark followed Callie out of the restaurant.

* * *

><p>"It was embarrassing, I know I haven't made the wisest decisions when it comes to confronting people," Callie chuckled wearily, snuggling into the warm chest beside her, "but...the way she looked at me…"<p>

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Smiling sadly, Callie willingly received a peck to the top of her head before lifting herself to sit against the headboard behind her. After getting comfortable, she pouted and dropped her hands into her lap. Chewing on her bottom lip, she played with the tattered hem of her t-shirt. Sighing, she gazed down at the hand rubbing her thigh affectionately.

"Does my relationship with Mark make you uncomfortable?"

Pausing his movements, John looked up at Callie questioningly. Her flustered, pleading expression forced him to mimic her earlier actions and settle himself beside her as against the wooden headboard. Taking time to think through his reply, he rubbed a palm against his newly stubbled jaw.

"I'm not a hundred percent excited about it. Would you be thrilled to know your girlfriend's best friend, a heterosexual male, has seen her naked more times than you can even imagine? Not just anyone could deal with that, Lexie's proof."

Stopping, he turned and glanced at Callie, who'd visibly tensed. Reaching forward, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, stopping only when she fell over his legs. Perching her atop him, he ran a hand soothingly along the small of her back, drawing the stiffness from her body. Once he felt her relax, John laid his hands over her hips and held her.

"I don't understand your friendship with him, and I'm not going to kill myself trying. All I know is that you want him to be a part of your life as much as I want you to be a part of mine. I can't change that; even with what I know about your past and some of the things floating around your work place," John paused, sopping Callie's eventual explanation by placing a finger over her lips. "Even with all the stuff people make sure I hear," he chuckled disbelievingly as he thought of the gossiping nurses that always seemed to surround him whenever he made a visit to the hospital, "I wouldn't want to. I fell in love with you, all of you. If there was a part of you I couldn't live with, neither of us would be here right now."

Stunned by his unwavering honesty, Callie sat still pondering his words. Through their time together, the subject of her friendship with Mark had never come up so bluntly, but with all the recent events, she felt the need to finally bring it up because she knew he it bothered him to some degree, even if he never expressed concern or voiced his opinions.

Looking across her and finding his obvious sincerity, Callie tilted her head in amazement. "I…" shaking her head, she laughed awkwardly, "that wasn't what I expected."

"What'd you think I was going to tell you, that I never wanted you to see him again?"

Callie gave a shy smile, made slightly nervous by his teasing. Hugging her tighter, John laughed.

"I'd never make you choose."

Grinning Callie dropped her forehead against his and leaned into his embrace. Finding warmth, she sighed in relief.

"I love you."

Pulling her closer, John beamed against her loose curls.

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>Having music pulsing through his ears while watching co-workers drink themselves under the table was not the way Mark Sloan had envisioned spending his Saturday night; but here he was hauled up in a corner of Cristina Yang's spontaneous house party, waiting for his best friend to make her appearance and turn his night into something salvageable.<p>

Minutes later she blew in, laughing and smiling, yanking her boyfriend in by the arm.

Groaning at the sight of their happy arrival, Mark took a gulp of his beer, slinking further into the corner, deciding that he'd rather fade into the background than be forced to socialize with Callie's supposed other half. The free spirited columnist got under his skin, irritated it like some horrible rash.

"If you were anymore focused, I think you'd be able to shot daggers out of your eyes."

Grunted, Mark shot a quick glance toward Derek who'd had come to stand beside him. He was slightly surprised by his friend's presence. Since his situation with Lexie had exploded and become top hospital gossip, Derek had steered clear of him. Though he knew it had more to do with wanting to be away from the drama, occasionally it still felt like he was choosing sides.

"You can't hate him that much can you?"

"Shut up."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head as he tossed his annoyed companion an amused smirk.

Taking a sip of his beer, he observed Mark closely, watching the way his expression changed as his gaze shifted between Callie and her boyfriend. Before he could comment on any of it, the duo spotted them.

"Hey!" Callie came up to the pair, still gripping John's hand as tightly as she had been when they'd arrived. Looking between Mark and Derek, she smiled even wider, obviously hoping that their standing in close proximity was indication that their friendship was on the mend.

"Callie," Derek smiled warmly, nodding at her. Turning to her guest, he squinted his eyes for a few seconds then chuckled politely, "John right?"

"Yeah," John laughed extending his hand. After the greeting, he turned to Mark and nodded, "Hey Mark."

Callie's glared at Mark's terse, almost inaudible hello. "Ignore him, he's a party-pooper."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are," Callie rolled her eyes, moving away from John to argue.

"I am not," Mark countered lamely, silently pleased that she moved away. If he kept up with his contentions, they might be off alone in some part of the room and he wouldn't have to deal with her boyfriend.

Finishing his drink, Derek laughed at Mark's tactic and turned to John who remained seemingly unaffected. Deciding to help his friend, he lifted his empty glass. "They could do this for hours if you let them. Want to get a drink with me?"

Dropping his gaze to the battling friends, John shook his head, "Sure."

Much of the night continued to pass in the same manner, with Mark's abrupt responses, Callie's unspoken reprimands and John's jovial obliviousness.

"Come on!" Callie yanked John forward and onto the dance floor. Smiling he complied without hesitation.

Mark rolled his eyes and snickered in disgust as they took to the floor. Having had enough of Callie's grinding, of what she was grinding against at least; he let his eyes roam the makeshift dance floor. He hadn't thought it possible, but some higher power (he still wasn't sure if he believed any existed) really did hate him; across the room from Callie's nearly R-rated show was Lexie's simmered version. In her most rhythmic attempt, Lexie was hopping around the room, happily enjoying the company of her date from several nights ago. Catching his eyes, she stared him down and in apparent retaliation for his presence, she reach over and kissed her date. Waving the action off with a roll of his eyes, he refocused on his drink.

Mark's miserable countenance was wearing her thin, guilt hit the pit of her stomach as she watched him wallow. She had been ignoring his sour mood on purpose, partly because she wanted to drink and have a good time, but mostly because the tiniest bit of her was still angry with him about going against her advice and forcing her to be with him when he confronted his wife. While the incident had been in it's own way embarrassing, it wasn't enough to justify leaving him to deal with his issues alone, not when he constantly gave her support.

Slowing her hips, she turned to tell John that she was going to get another drink, but she was interrupted by Cristina before she could do so.

"Torres," stopping Cristina paused as her eyes landed on John, "Torres' woman."

Snorting at the playful glare they both sent her way, she pushed a bowl filled with dollar bills into their line of vision. "We're taking donations."

"Taking donations?" Callie raised a brow, "what is this a church?"

"Oh ha ha," Cristina replied with sarcasm, "look we're running low on provisions, I could be sober sooner than I'd hoped and since I'm paying full rent now," she shot accusing eyes at Callie, "I couldn't afford to bring out as much booze as I wanted, so like I said, we're taking donations."

John instantly reached into his pants pocket for his wallet. As he pulled it out, everything else inside came with it. Two slips of papers and a set of keys landed on the floor, but the only thing that held their attention was the small velvet box that had dropped at his feet.

"Is that a…" Cristina spoke first, staring down at the familiar item. Moving quicker than John, she swiftly snatched it from the ground and pulled it open. Whistling in approval, she looked over at Callie's boyfriend, "Are you sure you're a writer, that thing is huge. So when are you going to ask her?"

John stood mortified, his face turning a dark shade of red. Grabbing the box he laughed awkwardly, "I was going to do it tonight after all this, when we were alone." Staring at the still stunned Callie, he inhaled deeply and slowly lowered himself onto one knee,

"But I guess now is a good a time as any." Taking her hand, looked up at her with genuine affection. "I've never done this before, so I'm not really sure if I'm doing it right," he paused to chuckle, "but I do know that I've thought about marrying you, buying you a house and spending the rest of my life with you. That much of all this feels right. I love you Callie." Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, then smiled up at her as they opened. "Will you marry me?"

Part of her wanted to give in to the hesitation that was roving over her heart; she wasn't sure they were ready for marriage, they had only recently started living together.

But the earnestness of his vision for them and the candor shown in front of the now silent room shoved her thoughts further away. This might be her last chance to be happy and she deserved it. Smiling down with watery eyes, she nodded her head before she finally speaking.

"Yes."

While the ring was placed on her finger, the group of drunken hospital employees saluted them with a cheer.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

"I'm getting a cup," Callie responded, shaking her head at the obviousness of her answer.

"Why are you marrying him?"

Sighing, she placed her plastic cup onto the counter in the kitchen and leaned against the marble top. She had expected his question, Mark had never been a fan of her, now fiancé.

"Why did you marry Lexie?" Taken aback by the tone of her own question, she stepped away from him, shaking her head as she cleared away the action; her intent had been to ask the question and prove a point, to make it more obvious why she'd said yes, not to sound accusatory. At a loss as to why it had come out in such a manner, she dropped her head in confusion.

"That's what this is about?" Mark asked, slightly surprised by the unwanted revelation.

"What?"

"You pushed me away that night," he spoke lowering his voice as he moved closer to her. "Look Callie, don't do this because of me."

Whirling toward him, she raised a brow in his direction. "You think this is about you?"

"Callie…"

"You really think this is about you? Not every decision I make in my life has to run by you. You're my best friend Mark, that's it." She shut her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, using them as a shield. Pursing her lips, she opened them again cautiously. "I need you to be there for me. Even with all your doubts, I need your support. I just need you there."

Faltering at her whisper, Mark's building anger crumbled. Moving forward, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. Swaying her gently, he squeezed her affectionately.

"You'll always have me, you know that."

"Thank you," Callie sniffled against his shoulder.

In response he held her tighter, reminding himself that he never promised to be happy about any of it.

* * *

><p>"I remember the first case I worked with her. It was two brides fighting over a dress, well not really fighting over a dress, it was a contest."<p>

John turned his gaze from Callie and Mark's embrace and watched Lexie settled beside him. Thinking she was drunk or at the very least buzzed, he ignored her and looked back over at his fiancée and her friend. They had finally pulled away from each other, but were now laughing quietly, probably at some insanely crude joke that only they understood.

"The first time I saw them together, I thought they were dating or at the very least sleeping with each other. I mean he actually dedicated his day to torturing someone…" John listened as she paused for a few seconds. Swiveling toward her, he caught a hint of sadness in her eyes as she recalled the memory. "He did it to make her happy. You didn't just do that for someone you barely considered a friend. At least that's really what they were back then, until they started screwing each other again."

"I don't want to be rude or mean or incredibly horrible, but why are you talking to me? Does any of this even have a point?"

The question may have come out harsher than he wanted, but John still held some resentment toward Lexie for the blame she put on Callie when it came to the destruction of her own marriage. Shooting her now hard gaze at him, she narrowed her eyes.

"You should know what you're getting yourself into."

Giving her a tight smile, John nodded and walked in Callie and Mark's direction. Taking a sip from her glass, she watched as he approached them.

"If you did, you'd know you don't have a chance."


	4. Chapter 4

Midmorning Wednesday found Derek whistling jovially down the hospital corridor. Most of the past day had been quiet and uneventful, giving him the chance to enjoy much deserved rest. As he strolled through the hall, he heard a loud thud followed by a crash coming from behind the supply closet door. Startled, he stopped and reached for the knob.

"Is everything okay in…" With eyes widened in surprise, Derek shut the quickly and stared up at the blank ceiling, hoping to somehow purge his system of what he'd seen.

As he was calming his mind, a young giggling woman rushed through the door, blushing fiercely when she passed him on her way out. Seconds later, Mark made it out of the room. Pausing to fix his collar, he smirked at Derek as he adjusted his jacket.

"You need to grow up," Derek spoke in a scolding tone, following Mark down the same direction he had been headed.

Snickering, Mark ignored him and continued with his pace.

"Sex doesn't solve your problems."

"Well we didn't get that far thanks to you. And I don't know what problems you're talking about, but sex works really well for me," Mark responded with a lecherously smirk, directed at the young nurse who eyed him salaciously. "Really, really well."

Disgusted, Derek continued to walk silently by his friend. He watched with irritation while Mark tilted his head as they strolled by fresh faced interns, eyeing them with unabashed interest. The most unlikable part of the old Mark Sloan was shining through the loveable personality he'd built over the past year. This only happened when he thought a situation in his life was hopeless, when something he cared about was lost.

Drawn into his own thoughts, Derek was plagued with sudden interest, he now wondered what it was that had reverted his best friend back to the man a great number of women seemed to hate. Thinking, he went through the recent events of Mark's life. Aside from the demise of his marriage, which hadn't brought as much visible heartache as one would assume, nothing much had changed.

Beside him, Mark's chest pocket vibrated loudly. Turning, Derek watched as he fished the phone from his coat. Smiling at the name flashed across the screen, he answered the call quickly. "What's up Torres?"

It hit him then, Cristina's house party; something huge had happened to Callie that night, something that ultimately could force the friend who was at the very least infatuated with her, back into habits she might not approve of.

He stood back, watching as Mark smiled into his phone and finally whistled happily when the call had ended. Stepping with a lightness that wasn't exactly present seconds before, he continued down the hall.

"Is this about Callie's engagement?"

In an instant Mark's joyful mood changed, he grew agitated and a scowl stretched across his face; Derek knew he'd struck a nerve.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mark snipped as they made their way through a group of attractive female residents who he surprisingly found uninteresting.

"I can read you like an open book," Derek waved a hand as they marched the hall. "Sleeping with random women was always your way of not having to deal with anything. You failed a test, you went on a sex binge; you couldn't get the apartment you wanted, you picked up the first two women you could find; I got married, you went and had more sex than I did that night."

"Look!" Mark whirled on him, "I don't know what your point is with all this, but you need to stop acting like some shitty shrink and shut up." Turning back toward to his destination, he gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Why the hell are you annoying me anyway? Don't you have someone better to hang out with, like you wife and her little sister?"

Derek smirked at Mark's comment, he was getting defensive, trying to avert attention away from the real problem. Tilting his head, he ran his eyes over his overheated companion. Sympathy flooded him instantly, driving away all logical thoughts and idea's of how to help him deal with his conflicted emotions.

"She's not a mind reader, although sometimes with you I'm not exactly sure," Derek chuckled lightly. Mark shot Derek an annoyed look. "She won't know if you don't tell her."

Contemplating his words for only a second, Mark retorted with a less brutish tone as they walked through the cafeteria doors. "I still don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but you need to sit back and stay quiet if you want to eat with us."

"Us?" Derek asked curiously. Smirking, he raised his hands in innocence as Mark fixed him with a glare.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Rocha," Mark walked up to the curtain separating his patient from the rest of the emergency room occupants. Flipping back the given paperwork, he pulled open the curtain quickly.<p>

"Hello again." The older man spoke in a friendly voice and smiled up at him.

Through with the papers on his clipboard, Mark winced as he spotted the giant wound running from one end of the man's forehead, right across to the other. Squinting he eyed his patient's familiar features, failing miserably as he desperately tried to put a name to the face.

"I'm sure you don't remember me, with all the people you must see here everyday…"

"Of course I remember you," Mark cut in, giving the man false assurance while he moved forward, tending to the open gash. "What happened?"

"I got into it with the rod iron coverings from the windows of my new house when I was taking them down." Remembering the event, he chuckled hoarsely and slapped a hand against the side of his left knee. "I started gushing bleeding like a fountain; scared my neighbors half to death. I'm going to have to apologize when I get back."

"I'm sure they'll just be happy knowing you're fine," Mark laughed, turning to reach for the necessary supplies.

Sitting comfortably on the hospital bed, Mr. Rocha, leaned forward quietly observing Mark inspect and pick his tools. Twiddling his fingers, he slumped his shoulders and began swinging his foot. Fed up with the silence, he decided to make conversation.

"Have you gotten on making that family yet?"

"Excuse me?" Wielding utensils, Mark approached Mr. Rocha, giving him a confused look.

"I knew you didn't remember me." Waving his finger at nothing in particular, Mr. Rocha smiled in amusement. "My name's Archie, Archie Rocha. I was here a few years back, when the apartment building I was living in exploded."

Seconds later it clicked.

"The meth lab," Mark nodded, remembering the day Archie referred to, "me and Callie worked on you."

"Dr. Torres?" Archie asked suddenly with a new level of interest. Noticing Mark's curiosity, he began to explain. "She came and visited me after surgery, right after that blonde doctor talked to me. She's a beautiful person. How is she doing? Is that husband of hers treating her better?"

Surprised at how much the man had managed to recount about Callie's personal life, Mark hesitated a little at sharing recent information, but something compelled him to speak.

"He passed away just this last year."

Mr. Rocha's face became somber. "Did she take it hard?"

"She did," Mark spoke, thinking back tot the first couple of weeks after the incident, then cleared his throat when he dove back into conversing, "but they were divorced a good while before it happened."

Both were quiet for a time while Mark continued to work. As he closed the cut, he reminisced about the day he and Mr. Rocha first met. A lot of it was a blur, but the one thing he remembered clearly was Callie's panic episode in the hospital hallway. Up until that point, they were really nothing more than acquaintances who'd sleep together once…or thrice.

"Does that mean she's free now?"

Catching on to the implication of his question, Mark raised an entertained brow and pulled back a little to stare down at his patient. "You interested?"

Trying to stay as still as possible, Archie let out laughter from deep in his gut. "I was looking out for you. But let me tell you something, if I was 20 years younger, I'd be pushing you out of the picture and getting myself in line."

Still stuck on the first part of his reply, Mark furrowed his brow as he again continued his word. "Looking out for me?"

"Yes looking out for you. You were doting on her the whole time she was around, standing too close, eyeing her whenever I suggested getting on with the baby making. I was sure something was happening between the two of you."

Snorting Mark shook his head, tilting his head, he studied his work for a few more seconds before showing complete satisfaction. "She's my best friend."

"The good ones always are."

Pondering his words for a moment, Mark quickly pulled the supplies, cleaning the area. Snapping his gloves off both hands, he tossed them into the trash. "We're all done here."

"Good, now I can get home and rest, maybe stay away from working on the windows for a while."

"That might be a good idea. I'll have someone come over to help you get everything else squared away. It was nice seeing you again."

"You too."

Smiling, Mark nodded and turned to walk away.

"Oh Dr. Sloan," Archie called after Mark, waiting for him to look back before continuing. Once sure he'd had full attention, he spoke again. "Do yourself a favor and make a play for that woman or someone'll beat you to it."

* * *

><p>Later Mark emerged from the attending' locker room, fully dressed in his street wear. Adjusting the collar of his leather jacket, he stared down the nearly empty hallway. Before his unexpected run in with Archie Rocha, he'd had every intention of meeting up with the woman who'd shacked herself up in the closet with him earlier, and filling his night with rough and tumble sex.<p>

But now, his planned night wasn't so appealing. The whole idea of the rest of his life playing out with him being an asshole who screwed whatever walked into the hospital wasn't appealing.

Pausing, he chuckled as he remembered where he'd heard that description.

"_You have a choice here…you can grow up, find a woman to love and have a baby. Or you could be that ass attending, who abuses the residents and screws whatever walks into this hospital."_

He had been so awestricken and taken aback by her bluntness. It had killed the pleasure he took in whining about his and Lexie's first break up. He had also secretly marveled at the fact that she found him worthy of a happy ending. Her uninhibited support crushed him, amazed him. No one had accepted him as openly as she had.

That's what he wanted, someone who supported him, someone who loved him without boundaries, someone he had always been too scared to pursue because he didn't think he was enough to make her happy.

Moving toward the elevator, Mark stepped in and looked down at the interface. His finger hovered over the ground floor button. Standing back as the doors slid closed, he thought of Callie experimenting in one of the small labs above him, flustered and frustrated; trying her damnedest to make something she believed in work.

Maybe, it was time for him to start trying too.

Without hesitating another second, Mark punched the elevator button that would get him to the third floor.

* * *

><p>"Even though the view from back here is incredibly pleasing," Mark spoke, leaning against the door frame, watching Callie as she bent over the table in front of her, eyeing a test tube determinedly. Stepping completely into the room, he slouched beside her, mimicking her stance. Bumping her shoulder gently with his own, he spoke again. "I don't think being hunched over a table like this is healthy."<p>

"It's not," Callie finally responded, pouting when her experiment once again failed. Scowling she stood up, raising her arms to stretch. Wrapping her loose curls in a sloppy bun, she sighed and dropped into the seat behind her. Taking a moment to scan Mark's clothing, she raised an eyebrow. "What are you still doing here?"

"Any other woman would just be happy I was here to keep her company," Mark teased, yanking a chair of his own to sit on.

"I'm not any other woman," she shot back confidently.

Smirking at her comeback, Mark tilted his head down and thought about how true her bantering reply actually was. Needing distraction from his thoughts, he closed his fist and lightly tapped his knuckles against the smooth black tabletop. "Hey, you won't believe who I worked on today."

"Who?" Callie glanced at him, emitting quiet interest.

"Remember that old guy from the meth lab explosion…"

* * *

><p>Close to an hour later, both Mark and Callie were in a better mood, laughing as they rehashed some of their most loved memories.<p>

"I still remember when you came up to me after that," Callie snorted shaking her head while she shot a quick glance at Mark, tight lipped and slumped in his chair. "God you were moping around about two teenagers comparing you to one of their fathers."

"It wasn't funny Torres," Mark mumbled, crossing his arms as he lifted a foot and dropped it in her vacant chair.

"Yes it was, the mortified look on your face was just so…priceless." Callie smirked at him over her shoulder. Mark in return narrowed his eyes, glaring at her for a few seconds before giving in to a smile of his own.

"Well…I don't care about it now."

"Good for you."

Lounging in his seat, Mark watched as Callie moved meticulously around her project. Her work ethic was one of the things he found so endearing about her. She enjoyed pushing the envelope and perfecting her skills in a field that not many took as seriously as they should have. Her will and determination were admirable.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

The question startled him and yanked him from his thoughts. Smiling, the memory came to the forefront of his mind, it had always been one of the clearest he could recall. Often times he was able to describe the night's details; the way she smelled, smiled, swayed her hips and brazenly seduced him at their first meeting had definitely made a long lasting impression.

Standing, he moved the few feet it took to settle beside her. Sending her the patented Sloan grin, he raised his brow. "How could I forget?"

"You're such a pervert," she snickered, "I meant before that."

"Well that part of the night…and early morning, two times in the early morning," Mark smirked as he brought a hand to rub his goatee, "outweighed everything else. And if I remember correctly, there wasn't much going on before that."

Pausing Callie, looked away from her papers, squinting as she thought. Pursing her lips, she stood up straight, holding her pipette in one hand and test tube in the other.

"There wasn't was there?"

"There wasn't," Mark laughed, stepping closer as he leaned in to push a strip of wild hair back behind her ear.

"Who would have thought, that this," Callie chuckled as he pulled lint and loose threads from her scrub top, "would turn into…"

"One of the best things in my life."

Without encouragement, Mark moved closer, pressing Callie's backside against the edge of her experiment table. Zoning in on her lips, he tilted his head in determination. Dropping his right hand flatly along the counter, he slowly craned his neck forward.

Astonished into silence, Callie embraced the building charge between them. It was overpowering, trancelike and she hadn't been able to think straight when Mark's lips caught hers.

Their kiss worked like their relationship, starting with an unmatched fiery passion, then slowed and built eagerness slowly.

It wasn't until she felt Mark's hand slide up her back and underneath her shirt that Callie was shaken back to reality. Stopping the kiss, she dropped her forehead against his before swiftly turning away from him.

Closing his eyes, Mark tightened his jaw and listened as her breathing calmed. Allowing his own to settle, he stepped away from her. Standing back he watched as she slowly continued her experimentation.

Awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to speak.

"Mark!"

Surprised by her yelp, Mark pulled away from his thoughts and shot his attention to Callie.

"I…it's not liquid!"

Raising her tube, she eyed it with amazement as her hand shook it in various directions. "It's not liquid! Oh my God! Oh my God! Mark!" She turned at him excitedly, flipping the tube completely upside down she stared up at the ceiling and then back down at him. "It's not liquid!"

Speechless, Mark smiled inwardly as Callie beamed, looking between him and her experiment. Flailing wildly, she fingered through her research and began mumbling animatedly.

"I…I gotta do it again but…oh my God! Mark can you believe it! It's not liquid!"

A happy silence filled the air, leaving the last few moments to remain forgotten. Nodding, Mark thought that it might be better that way.

"Oh my God!"

Chuckling at her repetition and enthusiasm, Mark grinned. Turning he made his way to the chair he'd previously occupied and dug through one of the pockets of his jacket.

Raising an amused brow, Callie laughed heartily when he waved two vending machine candy bars in front of her.

Smiling he tossed one in her direction. "Come on Torres, let's celebrate."

* * *

><p>"I'll get there tomorrow and be gone for four days at the very least."<p>

Finishing the last of his coffee, John watched as Callie nodded disinterestedly at his shared information.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he peeled at the corner of his paper napkin and cut the pieces into tiny squares, piling a mess on his side of the table. She had been that way for days; distracted and unenthused.

"You okay?" Glancing down at his own half eaten plate, John continued, "You've been really preoccupied lately."

Startled into reality, Callie looked up and smiled in embarrassment. Lifting her mug, she laughed against the rim of the cup. "I'm sorry…I'm just you know…work, my cartilage experiment, everything."

Nodding as if he understood, John decided not to pry, she'd talk when she was ready. Tapping his fingers, he searched the diner for a waitress. He didn't have to dwell on the growing disconnect between them if he busied himself with something. Finally able to flag down the elderly woman behind the counter, he grabbed his full mug and took a swig.

"I'm nervous about the cover story I'm doing for the paper," he spoke, breaking their lack of conversation. "I've been a columnist for so long, I feel like I've forgotten how to be an unbiased reporter."

"It'll turn out great…like all the other stuff you've written," Callie replied, adding the last of her statement as an afterthought while she played with her fork.

Smirking he shook his head. She had never read the paper, much less anything he'd written. She was always immersed in medical journals and glued to television reports. Sometimes it was a bit disheartening, the unintended dismissal of his work; but he didn't hold it against her, she took as much interest in his art and pastimes as he took in hers, only adding to their sudden list of incompatible traits.

Sitting back he sunk further against his chair, he pushed his food away and scraped his thumb along the edge of their booth. "I'm done."

"I am too."

Lifting his arm as he waved for the check, he realized that their feeble appetite was the first thing they'd seemed to have in common in a while. Maybe, that was the problem.

* * *

><p>"You've been avoiding me."<p>

"I've been busy Mark." Standing beside her, he watched as she sifted through useless paperwork, looking anywhere to avoid conversation. Déjà vu, they'd gone through this a few times after his wedding.

"Have drinks with me tonight." She visibly stiffened and he had 10 more seconds before she finished mulling over the idea of accepting his invitation before rejecting it, so he decided to move quicker with his words than she did with hers. "Joe's, 7:30. I'll find you if you're not there." When she didn't answer, he leaned forward as his expression grew incredibly serious. "We need to talk."

Staring up at him, Callie bite her bottom lip and sighed as she finally gave in.

"Fine."

* * *

><p>It was 7:43 when she finally made it to the bar.<p>

"Hey," Mark smiled up at Callie as she walked toward him.

Waiting until she made herself comfortable on the barstool next to his before sliding her the drink he'd ordered, Mark watched as she moved. Each action was measured, cautious and uneasy. He didn't like it.

When she settled, he pushed the glass in front of her with the tips of his fingers. Smiling a quick thanks, Callie pulled her arms out of her jacket, wrapped it around the back of her chair and reached for the alcohol. Without wasting time, she took an admirable gulp, savoring the taste as it ran through her system. Seconds later, she did it again.

Liquid courage, he assumed that's what her sudden comfort with drinking and no conversation was about.

He understood it, even needed it himself. He was afraid that nothing floating around in his head would sound right when he said it aloud.

Despite it all, Mark was surprised at how easy it still was to just sit with her, even when neither of them was willing to be the first to speak. It was that simple fact that pushed him.

"Look Callie about…"

"I don't really feel like talking right now," Callie turned to him with a weary smile. "I just really want to get drunk."

Chuckling softly at her response, Mark rubbed a hand through his hair and raised his drink.

"Bottoms up."

Callie smiled gratefully, raising her own before clinking their drinks.

* * *

><p>"We could have stayed out a little longer."<p>

Smiling at her comment, Mark glanced over his shoulder, pausing his actions as he watched Callie, drooped against the wall of her former apartment complex, sulking quietly while he stood in front of the door.

Chuckling, he shook his head and reverted his attention back to fiddling with the keys to his apartment; though he hadn't had quite as much to drink as his currently pouting companion, he'd had just enough to throw him a little off balance. Fighting with the knob, he was finally able to push open the door and get their haggard bodies into his home.

Standing back, Mark grinned as Callie swayed into the room, kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her jacket. Moving through the kitchen, she reached for the cupboards, grabbed a cup and filled it with water; it amazed him how incredibly comfortable she was in his apartment. She fit in more than he did sometimes.

Stepping away from the kitchen island, Callie traveled into the sitting area and walked to the stereo at the top of his entertainment center. Flipping it on, she scrolled through the radio stations, taking a few seconds to listen to each before finally settling on one that blasted an old favorite, Perez Prado.

"I don't think I've ever mentioned it, but you Mark Sloan," Callie paused snickering as she pointed at him while her body continued to wiggle, "are a terrible dancer."

Raising an eyebrow at her random insult, Mark crossed his arms and leaned against one of his kitchen chairs. Instead of offering a response, he laid back and enjoyed the sight of Callie's hips moving with the thumping beats filling the room.

"Staring isn't going to help your lousy skills."

Before he knew it, Callie had dragged him into the area in front of his television, much like she had done earlier at the bar. Shaking, she dropped her hands on his hips and forced him to swivel in rhythm. He moved awkwardly for several minutes, crushing her toes with his socked feet every so often. When the music finished, Callie rested her head on his shoulder. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled.

"You're a lost cause."

Mark stared down at her, studying her face. He quickly became entranced by everything he saw, her impossibly flawless skin, the adorable nose he'd nursed, the teasing quirk of her full lips, the ever present twinkle in her deep brown eyes.

She was right, he was definitely a lost cause.

Bending, he decided to continue from where they'd left off only nights before. Bringing her close, he reached up and slide his thumb across her cheek, caressing it slowly as he moved in and covered her mouth with his own. The same emotions from the last kiss they'd shared rushed to him, confirming everything he needed to know.

Holding her still, he walked her back toward his room only breaking away from her to take a one long breath. Meeting him with an equal amount of passion, Callie tugged at the buttons of his shirt as he pulled at the one on her pants. Stumbling through the doorway, he set her away from him, watching intently as she shimmied out of her jeans and yanked her top over her head. Every curve and exposed piece of caramel colored skin was outlined by the lighting of his bedroom. Letting his eyes roam her body, he couldn't think of anything other than how perfect it all was.

Then he saw it, glittering on her finger; the engagement ring her fiancé had given her.

Shot cold, he looked at Callie who stood across from him, smirking as she bit her lip and gazed at him with interest.

They had never got around to discussing their last encounter, what it might mean, to her future and his. She would hate him when everything was over. She would hate him, yell at him, marry someone else, have kids, be happy and never talk to him again.

And he wouldn't blame her. He had enough control to stop what they both wanted to happen, he wasn't going to take advantage of her while she wasn't fully able to make a choice between the half naked man in front of her and the one who had fairly staked his claim.

Using more restraint than he knew he had, Mark dropped his gaze from her and stepped back toward his dresser. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a pair of sweat pants and two of his oldest t-shirts. With his back to Callie, he dressed himself in the chosen attire and then turned to her. His chest pained slightly as he caught the image of her perched on his bed, raising a brow, waiting for him to finish what he'd started.

For a second he contemplated pulling every article of clothing off his body and hers, and taking his granted opportunity. But he didn't, he respected her more than that.

"What are you doing Sloan?"

Without responding, Mark moved forward and lifted her from the bed. Before she had time to do anything else, he pulled his Yankees t-shirt over her head. Catching the hem with his fingers, he yanked it down as far as possible, getting rid of as much temptation as she'd allow. Kissing her temple chastely, he walked around the side of his bed and pulled down the covers. When he finished, he reached a hand out toward the edge of the mattress where Callie stood dumbfounded.

"Let's go to sleep."

"What? I thought you wanted to…" her voice trailed off in confusion.

"To what?" He spoke harshly, angry at both himself and her for getting them in this position.

Callie glared in his direction, shifting she crossed her arms and unintentionally flashed her diamond at him. Shaking his head, he pointed down at her finger. "You're engaged."

Rolling her eyes, Callie snorted bitterly. "A while ago that wouldn't have mattered, you would have screwed me into the mattress without thinking twice." Jaw tightening as his face flared with unreleased feeling, Mark eyed Callie viciously. "Just like the little nurses you find so interesting; brainless and willing to open their legs to you on command."

"A few seconds ago you were just as eager."

Turning sharply at her, she cut him with and angry stare. "I'm not like them!"

"No, you're nothing like them Callie! Don't you get that?"

His statement startled both of them and left them dealing with lingering words.

After a time, Callie crawled into the bed. Wrapping her in his sheets, Mark turned to head for the couch, but stopped when he felt her hand slide over his wrist. Staring down into her pleading eyes, it only took him a second to lay down beside her.


	5. Chapter 5

"How big is the headache?"

Jerking in surprise, Callie turned toward the hallway entrance where Mark stood, watching her with a mixture of amusement and concern. Quietly observing, she took in his disheveled appearance; mussed hair, wrinkled shirt, slightly baggy pajama bottoms, he was every bit as attractive as he'd been the night before. Suddenly flustered, she pulled the water filled cup she had held to her lips, away from her face and placed it near the sink. Running fingers through her hair in nervous habit, she chuckled and gave a half grin without looking up.

"Not as big as I expected, but still pretty big."

Nodding his understanding, Mark pushed off the wall and maneuvered his way through various pieces of furniture before finally making it to the kitchen. Following her example, he reached into one of the cupboards, pulled out a glass and wasted no time in filling it with cool water. Standing back and away from where she rested against the sink, Mark silently surveyed the women in front of him.

Feeling the heat of his stare, she was plagued with an overwhelming sense of self-consciousness. She was messy haired, devoid of make-up, recovering from a night of foolish behavior, all while still wearing the t-shirt he'd given her. Being under scrutiny when she hadn't been looking or feeling her best was unnerving and wasn't helping the headache that accompanied her hangover. Wincing, Callie shut her eyes and slid fingers across her forehead, evidently working to rub the growing pain.

"Here."

Opening one eye, she peeked in the direction of Mark's voice.

"Take them Torres."

Callie smiled softly as Mark's hand came into view, two Advil tablets centered on his palm. Grabbing them, she swallowed quickly and took the proffered glass of water.

Drinking enough to get the medicine down her throat and into her system, she slumped back against the counter.

"Thank you," she smirked weakly, looking across the way at Mark. Crinkling her nose at his chuckle, she pouted and glared playfully. Grinning Mark stepped forward, grabbing her hand.

"Come on."

Confused, Callie allowed herself to be dragged back through his apartment.

Leading her past the furniture and into the hallway, he pulled her into his bedroom. In similar fashion to the night before, Mark stood her at the edge of the bed and walked to the mattress, busying himself with pillow fluffing and sheet unraveling as Callie watched. When he was done, Mark looked in her direction and nodded toward the inviting bed.

"Sleep'll make you feel better."

Hesitating only long enough to send a quick smile in his direction, Callie crawled up the mattress and laid back where she'd been asleep minutes earlier. When she had finally drifted off, Mark dropped beside her and did the same.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Callie stirred, groaning as she stretched her arms above her head. Smiling, she snuggled into the warm comforter surrounding her before turning to sink her face into the pillow, taking time to bask in the familiar scent clinging to it.<p>

Entertained by her actions, Mark chuckled lightly as he shifted onto his elbow; having woken up a good 10-15 minutes prior, he had taken to watching her rest. Over the years it had become habit, looking over his best friend as she slept, wondering what it was in her dreams that made her appear serene (and sometimes so incredibly unrefined that it came off charming). As odd of a custom as it was, it had grown into one of his favorite past times.

"What time is it?"

Grinning at her grogginess, Mark glanced past Callie's shoulder at the clock on the nightstand.

"12:43."

"God," Callie moaned, pulling herself in sitting position. With her eyes closed, she brushed her hair back and away from her face.

"Feeling better?"

Smiling in gratitude, she turned and looked down at him. "Yeah. My headache from earlier's pretty much gone."

"What have we learned from all this Torres?" Mark asked teasingly, casually placing his arms beneath his head as he looked up at the ceiling and laughed.

"Shut up," Callie laughed in return, poking his ribs gently.

Scowling, Mark rubbed the attacked area before resuming his relaxation. "I did enjoy that little table dancing number though."

Scoffing at his claim, Callie looked down at him amusedly. "I did not table dance Sloan. I remember everything from the moment I got to the bar, to the moment we…"

Mark listened as her voice trailed off, remembering what had happened between them the night before. Laying back, he watched as she shifted and sat up in bed. Before he knew it, he found himself doing the same.

Turning, his eyes met hers instantly; and with a hint of anxiousness and caution, both leaned forward until their lips met in a small undemanding kiss that quickly grew into a more heated encounter.

Pushing her gently against the mattress, Mark positioned himself between Callie's legs.

Breaking away to take a breath, he hovered over her, taking a moment to bask in her equally flushed appearance before dropping his lips for another kiss. As he moved, he fingered the risen hem of the t-shirt he'd given her while she tugged on the waistband of his cotton pants.

Lifting himself, Mark backed up slightly, not allowing her to continue her action. Resting his forearms beside her head, he ran a thumb across her cheek. Shifting, he leaned his forehead against hers, forcing her to look directly into his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Momentarily stunned by the piercing hope and promise his gaze held, Callie slowly maneuvered their bodies, rolling them so she was straddling his hips. Pulling his old shirt over her head, she moved forward, reaching around her back to unhook her bra while she kissed along his jaw, continuing until she reached his ear. Nibbling on his lobe, she sighed contently when his fingers curled into her hips, digging into their fullness as a quick shot of pleasure surged through him.

"Yes."

With that answer Mark turned them again, laying her beneath him, and began trailing kisses down her body.

* * *

><p>"Where is it? Where is it?" Callie whispered harshly, running her finger through the bunched sheets on Mark's bed.<p>

She had dressed quickly, pulling her jeans and blouse on over her body (sans bra and panties), and now found herself digging through the bed for her engagement ring. In a panicked rush, she finally located the diamond, thrust between two pillows.

Grabbing it, she held the piece just above her finger. Without effort her mind flashed with images of hours early, when she'd willingly wrapped her legs around Mark and allowed herself to be consumed by feelings that had existed long before the ring in her hand. Flooded with guilt, she pulled the jewelry away from herself and pocketed it instead, choosing to ignore the overwhelming emotions her decisions had caused.

She needed to escape, make a clean exit before Mark made it back with the dinner he'd been out getting.

Making her way down the hall, she surveyed the room quickly searching for her boots. Finding them, she bent to retrieve the shoes just as Mark's apartment door swung open.

"Hey," he asked smiling as he held a brown bag in one hand and a small bouquet of daises in the other. Taking in her full appearance and flustered expression, he frowned and dropped his keys on the table across him. Placing the bag and flowers on the table to his left, he crossed his arms defensively.

Frozen for only second, Callie swallowed air, gaining a gust of bravery. Collecting her belongings, she flipped pieces of loose hair back behind her shoulder and moved toward the door.

"You're blocking me."

"You're not leaving." Mark stood unmoving in front of her only exit. She looked up, avoiding his eyes as she pursed her lips uncomfortably.

"Mark…"

"Are you going to tell him?"

Callie's eyes shot up, meeting his fierce stare. "There's nothing to tell him."

"Nothing to tell him," Mark mimicked harshly, scoffing at her audacity. As he leaned forward, he let his breath mingle with hers. "That's bullshit and you know it Torres."

"I can't deal with this." With her full strength Callie caught Mark off guard and shoved him away from the door. Yanking it open, she slunk past him.

"We're dealing with it whether you want to or not," Mark spoke chasing after her, again blocking her only path to freedom.

"Don't," Callie shook her head, not wanting to hear what it was she expected him to say.

"I love you." Mark moved hands, gripping her shoulders.

"No you don't!"

"I love you Callie, open your eyes and see it."

"No Mark, you don't!" Callie yelped, freeing herself as she thrashed backward. "You don't love me. You're married,"

"Separated."

"..married and I'm engaged. You don't love me, you're just scared of losing someone else."

Shaking his head, Mark rubbed his jaw roughly and laughed bitterly. "I am afraid of losing you. But this isn't about just that, this about me loving you and you loving me."

"I never said I loved you." Callie responded defiantly.

"But you do, that's why you're running. You'd always run away, until I pushed you." Mark bore his eyes to hers, staring intently, determined on getting his point across. "I'm still pushing you, I love you and you love me. I know you're scared because you're supposed to marry this perfect guy. Problem is Torres, he's not the perfect guy for you."

"And you are?" She asked shaking her head in negation as her heart thumped rapidly in her chest.

"You know I am," Mark's voice softened as he drifted closer to her, eyes zoning in on her lips. Startled by his words and movement, Callie stepped away.

"I can't." She whispered rushing around the corner, nearly colliding with a stock still Cristina Yang.

"Callie!" Mark rushed behind her, but stopped as she reached the elevator. As the doors closed, he slapped a hand against the wall, receiving a raised brow from the curious Asian. Glaring, he stomped back into his apartment and slammed the door behind him.

Momentarily stunned, Cristina blinked several times before finally heading to her door.

"I'd have a harder time finding drama on a damn soap opera."

* * *

><p>"Yeah…dinner tonight sounds great…I can't wait to see you."<p>

Cristina lounged back in her chair, legs propped up against the desk as she stretched her arms behind her head and watched Callie smile into the phone. As uncommon as it was for her to bother picking up on someone's habits, having been her roommate for so long, Cristina had learned much of Callie's.

"It's been weird without you here too."

Snorting at Callie's response and the half hearted smirk (a telltale sign of her insincerity) she sent into the receiver, Cristina leaned forward with more interest. After several seconds of surveying her companion, she easily caught onto the sadness, guilt and hint of annoyance in her posture. It was a little heartbreaking to see; Cristina had come to tolerate the quick witted columnist and was pleased with the happiness (even if only temporary) he'd brought her friend; a small part of her, the tiniest part, didn't want to see the guy torn to shreds when everything came out in the open.

"Okay I'll see you tonight…I….you too."

Ending the call quickly, Callie breathed heavily and bit her bottom lip. Stuffing a hand in her pocket, she fingered the ring still lying there in between the fabric. Pulling it out, she frowned slightly as she shoved it onto her finger. Turning, she caught Cristina's expectant gaze.

"What?" Callie grumbled her agitation.

"Nothing," Cristina responded looking down at the folder in front of her.

Rolling her eyes, Callie turned to her phone. From her peripheral vision, she could see the young resident eyeing her ringed hand. Annoyed, Callie slammed her folder onto the counter.

"What?"

"Look not like I care about you and paper boy or you and manwhore," Cristina spoke up, failing to sound as convincing as she wanted. Sighing, she moved closer to Callie and quieted her voice. "I…just don't want to have to house you again."

Callie scoffed.

"Whatever," Cristina continued after the interruption. "I'm just saying, you know what it feels like to be lied to. Tell him before you have Sloan's baby and your life ends up being an episode of _General Hospital_."

Backing up, she grabbed her papers and walked away, leaving a flabbergasted Callie standing alone at the desk.

* * *

><p>"I'm done with it. What more could I tell her?"<p>

Derek smiled as he looked across the table at his longtime friend. Reaching forward, he sipped his beer slowly, listening to Mark's continuing rant.

"Will you say something Shepherd? You're just sitting there," Mark let out disgusted.

Chuckling Derek, set down his glass and looked around the kitchen. "You're getting some sort of emotion out of her, her running was good."

"Good? Were you listening to anything I was saying? Anything? How could this be good?" Standing, Mark shook his head and maneuvered around the island, depositing his still full mug in the sink as he walked through the kitchen doorway. "I don't know why I still talk to you. If she can't see that I really love her, what's the point of trying."

"Give her time to figure it out. If being in love was easy, there'd be a lot more happy people in the world."

"You know what would make _me_ happy, having a drink and picking up the first woman who crossed my path." Mark mumbled as he turned the corner and made his way past the staircase, where unknown to him Lexie had inadvertently caught the end of their conversation.

Staying back she watched him walk out the front door. Pulling her jacket tighter against her body, she reached into her pocket for her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she stopped at his number and started her message.

Outside Mark sat in his car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in irritation. Sighing, he stuck the key in the ignition and moved to start his car, but was stopped the vibration of his front pocket. Grabbing it, he looked down at the message and groaned.

_Joe's 8? We need to talk._

_-Lexie_

He sat still, weighing his options slowly.

"Fuck it."

_Sure._

After sending the message, he pocketed his phone and turned the key to start his car, taking a few seconds to regret his decision before driving away.


	6. Chapter 6

Ever since he was a young child John had the uncanny ability to read people, he could take one look at someone and know what emotions they were going through. Most times it was a gift, that allowed him to reach people who had shut themselves off to everyone else.

But other times, it forced him to experience the harsh feelings of reality.

Sitting back, John stared as Callie used her fork to pick at the chocolate dessert on her plate. She'd been quiet and fidgety for a majority of the night, obviously nervous. It disheartened him; after having spent days a few from her, he had wished for a more enthusiastic welcome from his fiancée.

Looking down, he eyed the ring on her finger; it sparkled with so much hope and promise for the future, their future together.

But she wasn't happy, with him, with them, with herself; that much had been written clearly across her features.

"Could we go for a walk?"

Startled by her sudden words, he glanced up and into the most beautiful pair of pleading brown eyes; he could never deny them.

"Yeah," he answered with a small smile, while raising his hand to call for the check.

A walk would be wonderful, great, necessary; and maybe she'd finally tell him why she looked so guilty.

* * *

><p>Love, trust, companionship…these were a few of the things she used to define a successful relationship. It wasn't until their time of separation that Lexie understood how much hers with Mark lacked.<p>

Glancing at the mirror, she reached up and wiped lipstick off the side of her mouth. Lowering the hem of her dress, she pulled back and combed fingers through her hair.

"You're amazing you know that?"

She smiled wistfully at the man beside her; it had been a long time since she felt this loved.

"Your opinion doesn't count, it's clouded by car sex," Lexie giggled as she felt his lips press lightly against her neck. "Stop or I'll never get out of here."

"I'm not so sure that's a bad thing."

Shaking her head, she playfully smacked his wandering hand off her thigh.

"Alright, alright. I surrender!"

Suppressing a chuckle, Lexie turned and glanced at the digital clock inside the vehicle. It was five to eight, sighing she looked past Jackson and let her eyes land on the familiar neon sign atop the bar entrance.

"You know you're doing the right thing," he spoke calmly, dancing his fingertips across her palm.

"It still hurts," Lexie whispered back, not really intentionally answering him as she scanned the papers that'd been stuffed into a manila envelope earlier in the day.

"Then I guess you have to trust me to make it better."

Tilting her head, she examined him for a moment. In appearance Jackson Avery was the complete opposite of Mark Sloan, and maybe that was what drew her to him when they first met; but as she watched him, staring at her with adoring eyes, she finally saw the resemblance. She had seen Mark carry that expression more times than even he knew; the problem was that it had never been for her.

With that thought, she ran a thumb over her boyfriend's cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips before exiting the car. Maneuvering around the outside of the vehicle, she paused by the driver's side window.

"Are you coming over later?"

Stepping back, Lexie held onto the documents and nodded her agreement.

"Then I'll wait up."

Giving Jackson a grateful smile, she stayed back and watched as he drove into the night; then biting her lip, she turned and headed for the bar.

* * *

><p>It was freezing outside, but she still refused his jacket; there was no way she was going to take something else from him after everything he'd given her.<p>

Hugging her coat tighter to her body, Callie walked slowly and looked out into the crowd of trees that she often found beautiful in the daylight. Everything about the area was peaceful and it had a sort of calming affect on her. She needed that, especially now.

Tipping the gravel beneath her feet with the point of her heel, she paused in her movements and waited for John to do the same. When he did, she dropped her hands into the oversized pockets at her sides and looked up into dark sky.

How do you tell someone you love on at least some level, that you can't marry them? That you've slept with your best friend, who you now realize may possibly be the one big love of your life? There was no instruction manual for this situation or Hallmark card for the person wronged when it was all over; it was just a chaotic mess that she'd created and helped enable along the way.

Her heart nearly shattered when she turned to glace at John, dashingly handsome and as caring as he had always been.

"You don't want to get married do you?"

Pursing her lips, she closed her eyes as his blunt question met her ears. She should have known he would catch on faster than she was able to absolve him.

"Because of him."

Cool wind breezed between them as they stood more than an arm's length apart. They were consumed by silence for the next minutes; him mulling over thoughts, her building up courage until she finally gained enough.

"I slept with him while you were gone."

Callie watched John as he nodded, turned his back to her, and walked straight into the black night.

* * *

><p>Lexie was beautiful; bright eyes, a great smile, a body most women would love to have. Put simply, she was the dream ordinary men strove for; and she was his wife.<p>

But he was no ordinary man, and it turned out that she had never been his dream.

Mark realized that now as he watched Lexie slide onto the stool next to him. She looked as gorgeous as ever, and he still couldn't shake Callie from his mind; not that he really wanted to.

"How are you?"

"Amazing," he answered with a sly grin, leaning into her as he spoke.

Raising an eyebrow, Lexie laughed at his response. "You're a horrible liar."

Smirking, he dropped back and waved the bartender over, then preceded to make a fool of himself when he ordered her a drink that he had believed to be her favorite. He nearly burst into laughter when she canceled it and made one of her own.

Then sitting back he observed her, so confident, movements so fluid; nothing like the girl he knew. It was then that he began to wonder if he'd known her at all.

"So you're finally ready to admit you're in love with her."

Glowering, Mark looked down at his drink and swirled a finger over the rim of his whiskey filled glass. The rejection and denial still hurt; and he didn't want to rehash the feelings, especially not with his estranged wife. That would only cause him more grief.

"Look I didn't come here to fight Lexie."

"Neither did I, we've done enough of that already," she laughed quietly, nodding a thank you to the bartender when he dropped a drink in front of her. Reaching out to her side, she took a deep breath and grabbed the sealed envelope and placed it on the countertop directly in Mark's view before taking a sip from her glass. She knew that legally things weren't supposed to be carried out this way, but they needed to talk, clear the air, and this was the only way it would happen.

Furrowing his brows, Mark scanned the papers she'd given him.

"Divorce?"

With a smothered chuckle, Lexie stared up at the ceiling then turned her eyes to him. "What did you think I came here for?"

* * *

><p>It had been nearly twenty minutes when John found his way back to Callie. Neither of them spoke as he approached the bench where she was seated and dropped down beside her.<p>

"I do love you," Callie whispered, emotion getting the best of her as she crinkled her brows and stared into her lap.

"Just not the way you love him."

Licking her dry lips, Callie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Taking a moment, she studied her engagement ring; and then with just a second of hesitation, she pulled it off her finger. Hardening herself, she reached over and placed it in John's palm.

Chuckling sadly, he lifted it to the light and let it glitter ironically.

Overwhelmed with the need to provide John comfort, Callie opened her mouth to speak; but her words were cut short as he raised a hand stopping her.

"Don't," he shook his head, "I don't want to be patronized and I don't want your sympathy."

Standing, John dusted off his pants and coat, and dropped his hands into his pocket. Titling his head, he stared out at the moon.

"Part of me always knew. You and him could have denied it to yourselves forever, but we all saw how you looked at each other," he breathed a despondent sigh, "even if we didn't want to believe it. I hope that he makes you happy, because I don't think anyone else will ever be able to."

Holding herself, Calle's eyes dampened as her shoulders drooped.

"I'm so sorry."

Cool demeanor finally cracking as his face emitted sorrow, John slunk his head to watch the ground below him.

"Me too."

* * *

><p>They talked about everything, expressed themselves in a way they, for one reason or another, never could when they were together. Maybe it was the knowledge that they no longer had put up façades to win each other over or maybe it was because they were never really meant to be more than colleagues and friends. Whatever it was though, Mark was grateful for the new opportunity.<p>

"I want to thank you."

Raising an interested brow, Mark tossed out a confused smirk.

"I know," Lexie smiled, fingering the water droplets on the outside of her glass, "that probably sounds weird, but you kind of helped me grow up."

"Well," Mark grinned taking a drink from his beer, "I had to return the favor."

Shaking her head, Lexie tapped her nails on the bar, "your growing up had nothing to do with me."

"Lexie…"

"I heard you today," she glanced at him, concern flooding her eyes, "Mark, Callie loves you. Look I know I blamed both of you for everything that happened between us for the longest time, but…"

"No offense, but I'm not sure I want to talk about this with you," Mark chuckled sadly, cutting her off as he flicked a coin between his fingers.

Firmly straightening, Lexie gave him a serious look.

"Don't do anything stupid. I may not have thought so a weeks months ago, but both you and Callie deserve to be happy; and being with each other is probably the only way you two will ever get there."

Sighing, Mark threw his head back and chugged the rest of his drink. Blinking a few times as the alcohol made its way down his throat, he waved Joe over for another when it finished.

"You want to join me for one more before I head home, you know to help make sure I keep from being an idiot."

Laughing, she took the last gulp of her beverage then turned back to him.

"Sure, what else are soon to be ex-wives for?"

* * *

><p>Callie was a few feet off the entrance when she finally realized where she'd let her body take her; biting her lip she looked up at the apartment building. Her heart thumped as she caught sight of the small bathroom window; she wondered if he was there, sitting on his couch hating her.<p>

Pursing her lips, she closed her eyes at the thought. It was then that she heard a faint but familiar chuckle from the far end of the street.

Furrowing her brows, Callie watched the laughing pair in front of Joe's; taking a breath she smiled sadly as she took them in. They looked incredibly happy.

Nodding at the irony, she turned away from them and moved to climb up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"We never should have passed this step," Lexie grinned, shaking her head at some joke Mark had told her while they waited for her cab to arrive.<p>

"What step?" Mark questioned, still smirking.

"The friends step."

"Were we ever there?"

Tilting her head, Lexie stared up at the sky then turned to him and laughed, "I guess not. But we can be there now, I don't want us to be one of those bitter ex-couples, not when I see you everyday."

Smiling, Mark reached around his back to scratch the base of his neck, "I could use another friendship, especially since I keep screwing up the other ones."

Seconds later Lexie's cab arrived, pulling up to the curb. Grabbing the handle to the backdoor, Mark opened it for her and moved aside to let her in.

Standing with one foot in and the other still touching the pavement, she turned to him, "Derek's right, give it a few days."

"And then what?"

"And then, do whatever you have to."

Reaching up she kissed his cheek, gave the cab driver Jackson's address and waved good bye.

* * *

><p>Cristina Yang had reveled in the fact that she could live life without showing emotion. Being compared to a robot was one of her many accomplishments.<p>

But right now, all that crashed away as she watched Callie walk past her and into the apartment, straight to the room that used to be hers. Following after her, she stood in the doorway as her former roommate, the woman who had become her friend, sank into the mattress and dropped back with a deep sigh.

Unexpectedly saddened by the display, Cristina paused for a moment, judging whether or not she should move into the room or walk away. Then she heard a sniffle as Callie shifted in the bed. Closing her eyes, she cursed inwardly as she moved toward it. Frowning, she glanced at Callie then mimicked the woman's earlier actions and dropped onto the mattress with an unsophisticated thud.

She stayed quiet for several minutes before finally pushing her curly hair away from her face and asking the long awaited question.

"Who did you choose?"

Taking a deep breath, Callie laughed and stared straight up at.

"I chose myself."

Sensing more of an explanation, but no a desire to share it; Cristina nodded and moved her eyes to the ceiling.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** It's short and kinda cheese ball but hey it's done. There's also a tiny epilogue scene there at the end, hope you guys enjoyed the long ride.

* * *

><p>The hospital buzzed with gossip as Mark strode through hallways, coming back from a few days off. He had taken the advice given him and shut himself away for a couple of days, living like a hermit to ensure that he wouldn't push Callie into a decision she would later regret. It was hard not seeing or hearing about her, he wanted so badly to find out if she had been as affected as he was by everything.<p>

"I thought you had died or something."

Glaring at the Asian woman now marching beside him, Mark opened his mouth to retort with a quip of his own. But Cristina spoke up first.

"I've got info on your other half," rolling her eyes, Cristina tsked as she looked straight ahead. "I can't believe I just said that."

"What the hell are you talking about Yang?"

"Callie moved in with me a few nights back."

Pausing mid-stride Mark shifted his focus onto the young doctor.

"What happened?"

Cocking a side grin, Cristina shook her head in negation as she stared him down.

"Not until you tell me that the crap about your divorce is true."

"We signed if that's what you mean."

"Did you guys have break-up sex? Kiss? Anything I wouldn't normally care to know about?" Cristina asked, unashamed by her questions.

"What's with the third degree Yang?" Mark huffed, clearly annoyed by the line of conversation. Straightening himself, he attempted to appear authoritative, but Cristina wasn't easily intimidated. Sighing, he finally gave up. "We had drinks at Joe's and talked."

"That's it?"

"That's it, why are so damn curious about us all of a sudden?"

Looking around the hall, Cristina waited until no one seemed to be paying attention to them; reaching forward, she grabbed Mark's jacket and dragged him into the nearest room.

"What the hell's your problem Yang?" Mark bellowed, smoothing out his coat as he scowled.

"Will you shut up, I don't want people knowing I'm in a locked room with you," Cristina hissed loudly, then moved to lean against one of the racks in the supply closet. "She gave back the ring."

When he didn't respond, she continued.

"Do I have to spell it out for you Sloan. Callie and John broke up, for good. She chose you."

Turning to her, Mark stepped back and leaned against the door. His mind was flooding with countless thoughts as he raised a hand to his face. Rubbing his cheek, his lips turned upward into an almost infectious grin.

Snorting, Cristina crossed her arms over her chest, "don't look so self-satisfied McSteam. She thinks you and Mary Sue are back together."

"What?"

"Callie saw you guys outside the bar, and you were laughing or something. Anyway, she said that you looked happy."

He thought back and remembered what she was referring to; though he felt nothing stirring between him and Lexie, he could see how someone looking at them from an outside perspective would confuse the situation. Especially someone that had just been through something emotional and…

"Where is she?"

"She's avoiding you," Cristina mumbled, stepping away from the wall. Walking toward the door she moved to the exit and with strength even she was unaware she possessed, shoved Mark aside. Turning the knob, she breathed deeply and glanced over her shoulder. "Deliver these to her," she began, reaching across her side to retrieve a file he hadn't known she was carrying. "She needs to see them before her patient can be released, he's in 253."

"Why are you helping me?"

Scoffing, Cristina rolled her eyes, "I'm not helping you; just don't screw this up."

With that she shut the door behind her and Mark eyed the folder, before quickly doing the same.

* * *

><p>"Everything went great," Callie smiled at her patient and the horde of family members that had come rushing to him after they were given the okay to visit. Though the hospital wouldn't normally allow this much people in a room, she couldn't help but let them all in; this man was obviously loved that it seemed a shame to limit something so cherished.<p>

Despite everything, she hoped she had that someday.

"When can he go?"

Shifting her attention from Mr. Wilkins and turned to his wife, who was sitting beside him holding one of his hands between her palms. Looking on with fascination, she watched how receptive he was to her touch and noted how much happiness surged between them.

She hoped for that someday too.

"I'm just waiting on someone to bring me a few things before I'm able to sign your husband off and let all of you guys out of here," Callie chuckled looking around the room.

Behind her, the door clicked open.

Turning quickly, she dropped her smile as she caught sight of Mark standing in front of her, raising the folder she'd asked Cristina to bring her. Pursing her lips, she took the file from his hands and flipped it open, focusing on the charts while she waited for him to make an exit; an action he seemed to have no intention of doing.

"I need to talk to you."

Callie's back stiffened as Mark came behind her and spoke into her ear.

"Not now," Callie hissed back, keeping her voice low.

"Callie…"

"Is something wrong Dr. Torres?"

Looking up, she managed to work up a tight grin as she met the eyes of her now worried patient. She wanted to hit Mark for pushing him into unease.

"Everything is perfect," closing the folder, she crossed her arms over her chest. "We can get you out of here, I'll call one of the nurses to bring you discharge papers."

"But whatever he wants to talk about sounds serious," Tara, Mr. Wilkins' eldest daughter, spoke up.

"Dr. Sloan, a highly regarded plastic surgeon who has no business in this room, doesn't know how to keep personal matters out of professional settings; so please just ignore him."

Snorting at her comment, Mark reached up to rub his jaw.

"If Dr. Torres would speak with me personally, I wouldn't have to barge in on you lovely folks like this."

The family members, now thoroughly confused, watched the two exchange heated glances and not so nice words as they sat back.

"Don't do this," Callie shook her head and straightened her lips in a serious expression.

"Will you talk to me if I promise not to do this now?"

"We don't have anything to talk about. Just go."

Turning her back to him, Callie closed her eyes and breathed slowly, completely forgetting the audience she had as she attempted to calm herself.

Across the way, Mark smirked and shook his head as he turned the lock on the handle and settled against the door, intentionally blocking the room's only exit.

"What do you think you're doing Sloan?"

Unaffected by Callie's seething tone and disbelieving stare, Mark steeled himself and looked on at the woman before him, an impressive amount of determination set in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me about the ring?"

Scowl drooping, Callie's face crumbled as Mark's question rung through her ears. Sighing, she chuckled sadly and licked her lips out of nervousness.

"Who told you?"

"Why didn't _you_ tell me?" Mark asked, his voice softening as he straightened.

"I don't have to tell you about every little thing that happens in my life," Callie spoke up defensibly, tilting her chin in defiance as she regarded him. But he saw the chink in her armor, and if it got him any closer to getting her to drop her guard, he was going to use it.

Stepping forward Mark settled in front of her, still effectively blocking her path while managing to stay close.

"Seems like more than a little thing to me."

"So does getting back together with your wife," Callie responded in a clipped tone, "but that didn't keep you from not telling me either."

Chuckling, Mark dropped his head and crossed his arms over his chest before looking back up into Callie's eyes.

"We're not getting back together."

"I saw you Mark, I saw you and her outside together; laughing and happy and…" Callie's voice trailed away softly as she moved her eyes to ceiling. Her eyes began to water as she thought over everything, reliving painful moments of the situation she blamed herself for creating.

"What you saw, was me waiting with Lexie for her cab after we'd had a few drinks and signed divorce papers."

Knitting her brows, Callie eyed Mark curiously unsure of how to react to his statement.

"Cal we're getting a divorce."

"Why?"

Smiling, he reached up and ran his thumb back and forth across her cheek.

"You can't be married to someone you're not in love with."

Shaking her head, Callie stepped back and tightened her jaw. Hugging herself, she closed her eyes, taking a moment to compose herself again.

"You don't," she finally argued as she opened her eyes.

"Torres, I've been in love with you since we first met; I was just too much of an idiot to realize it sooner." Grinning, he moved forward again invading her space, "we both were and I want to fix that."

Despite his intended humor and utter truth, Callie's breath hitched and became slightly erratic at his words, helping to crack her resolve.

"Have dinner with me tonight," raising a hand to her chin, Mark tilted her eyes back to his, "and tomorrow night, and every night until you're convinced that I want to spend the rest of mine with you."

Left speechless Callie bit her bottom lip as her mind fought a losing battle with her heart.

"At this point in the movie your characters usually kiss."

Swiveling their heads to the forgotten bunch watching them, both Mark and Callie were met with knowing and eager faces.

Unable to hold it together, Callie shook her head and let out a resounding laugh. Breaking into the widest grin she'd ever seen him bear, Mark laughed wholeheartedly and leaned into her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he beamed at her easy compliance as he scooped her forward. Bringing his mouth within inches of her, he chuckled.

"How about we give the audience what they want?"

A smile playing on her own lips, Callie closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"I love you."

Heart thumping, Mark sighed in relief before rasping a simple _I know;_ and kissing Callie Torres senseless.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_Sometime later…_

"I hate this stuff."

"I know, but your mother doesn't," Mark grinned holding up a beautifully constructed set of glass products. "And buying her something might get me back into her good graces."

Rolling her eyes Callie placed her hands on her hips and watched as he carefully scrutinized each piece, obviously looking to find one that might make her mother happy. It was sweet really, at least after you took away the fact that he was only doing it to get back on her good side.

"Is there anything I can help you with today?"

Glancing over their shoulders, both Mark and Callie were met with the smile of a familiar saleswoman. Watching with amusement as she squinted at the pair, then widened her grin in realization; they looked over at each other and inwardly chuckled.

"Mark Sloan right?" The woman tilted her head in question, then shifted her gaze to Callie, "and his just friend Callie Torres?"

"Almost right," Callie responded smiling as she turned her body to fully face the other woman.

"I'm sorry, I get names wrong sometimes and…oh wow!" The young woman's face brightened in surprise as Callie's protruding belly came into view. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Callie nodded and chuckled simultaneously.

"When are you due if you don't mind my asking?"

"Our baby's due in November," Mark finally spoke up, grinning as he reached around Callie's waist and rested a protective palm over her stomach.

The woman raised her brow at the scene and the matching wedding bands each of them wore. Catching her stare, both Mark and Callie nodded confirming her inner thoughts.

"Well," she spoke, smile creasing her lips once again, "congratulations to both of you. Now, is there any way I can help you around the store?"

Shaking his head in affirmation, Mark dropped his hand from Callie's waist and intertwined her fingers with his before focusing back onto the saleswoman.

"What would you suggest buying a mother-in-law, whose most cherished vase you broke and favorite carpet you ruined while having an impromptu wrestling match with her two youngest grandchildren during a vacation to her home?"

Blinking, the woman giggled before moving in front of the couple.

"Here, let me show you to the vases and the luxury carpets."

Mark and Callie obediently followed behind her, smiling and holding hands as they went.


End file.
